


Grow Young with Me

by Taliesin19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-08-07 08:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 208,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16405130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliesin19/pseuds/Taliesin19
Summary: He always sat there, just staring out the window. The nameless man with sad eyes. He bothered no one, and no one bothered him. Until now, that is. Abigail Waters knew her curiosity would one day be the death of her...but not today. Today it would give her life instead.





	1. Chapter 1

A strong scent of smoke filled the room.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

Abigail Waters of age 24, stared down forlornly at her new uniform.

"Abby? What's that smell?"

She heard a snort from the door and looked up to see her flatmate, Clara, peaking in. "Don't tell me you burnt it?"

"I'm absolute shite at ironing," Abby said, holding up her work blouse in the light. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Clara refrained from answering. "Aren't you going to be wearing an apron, anyway?" she asked, instead.

"Yeah, but it's not going to cover all of it," she said, hands on her hips as she stared down the iron with a frown.

"Ah, well," she shrugged a second later. "It's not as if I'm particularly excited about this job, anyway."

Clara merely rolled her eyes and retreated back to her room.

After finally getting ready, Abby called out her goodbyes and began the short trek to the café just a couple streets away. It was one of those rare, sunny days that she simply adored and that filled her with a surge of happiness. She had the strongest urge to just start jogging or maybe do a little twirl.

Glancing surreptitiously around for any passersby, she smiled impishly and twirled around with her arms out and head back, facing the sun.

Then a few seconds later, she cleared her throat and continued her brisk walk as if nothing had happened.

"Waters, right on time," a voice called as she entered the shop.

Abby smiled at her boss, as she quickly threw on her apron.

"Which means you're late."

The smile was immediately wiped off her face.

"I want you here at least 15 minutes before the start of your shift," the older woman stated brusquely. "Now, go and clear those back tables."

"Yes, Ms. Appleton."

* * *

Harry Potter sat in his usual seat by the window, not making eye contact with anyone and positioning his chair in a manner that ensured no one would talk to him.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

 _No, I just came in here for the scenery_.

"One black coffee, please," he said, looking up at the waitress.

She had sleek blonde hair that came down to her waist, and Harry always wondered how she even managed to do her job when she had to continuously move it out of the way. Her face was one of symmetrical beauty that seemed almost obnoxious in the normal setting around her. And her body could rival that of a model: tall and very thin.

"Will that be all?" she asked sweetly, flashing a pearly white smile at him.

"Yes," he said, not smiling back.

The woman left, leaving Harry to once again stare blankly out the window.

He stopped here nearly every day, and always ordered the same thing: one black coffee. Then he would proceed to drink it while staring out into the busy London streets. He talked to no one, and no one talked to him. That's the way it always was, and he liked it.

"Black coffee, right?" a voice suddenly asked.

Harry looked up into the face of a young waitress he'd never seen before. She was holding two separate orders somewhat precariously in her hands, and didn't look to be very well-balanced.

"Yes," he said warily.

As luck would have it, a child running loose from his mother chose that exact moment to bump past the her.

Harry watched the contents of the coffee mug as if in slow motion. And as the scalding hot liquid made contact with his shirt, he jumped up and let out a grunt of pain, trying extremely hard not to swear loudly.

"I-I'll get you some ice," said a scared voice that he barely registered.

Making sure no one was looking, Harry quickly cast a cooling charm on his body and let out sigh of relief as the throbbing began to subside.

He saw the woman practically sprint back toward him carrying a large bag of ice and effectively catching the attention of everyone in the small café.

"I am so  _so_ sorry," she whispered frantically, carefully placing the bag on his still sore chest. "Do you need go to hospital? I can call an ambulance, you might have some burns. Oh, this is all my fault!"

"It's fine alright," Harry said. "The ice helped, thank you."

"Waters," said a stern voice from behind them.

The girl shut her eyes for a moment before turning around. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Is this your doing? I needn't remind you that this is the third blunder you've made today," the older woman said quietly so as not to cause any more disturbance.

"Well, I—"

"It wasn't her fault," Harry said, flatly. "A kid bumped into her, it could've happened to anyone."

The woman pursed her lips, but didn't argue. She apologised once more and offered him a free meal, but Harry wasn't interested.

"I just want one black coffee."

"Of course. You can manage that, I hope, Waters?" she said to the girl, a touch of disdain in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

When the girl came back with his order, she very carefully placed it on the table and then paused in front of him.

"You really don't have to apologise again," he said, hoping that she would just leave him alone.

"I actually wanted to thank you," she said. "For what you told my boss."

"I only stated the facts."

"I know," she nodded vigorously. "But you saved me my job. So…thank you."

"You're welcome."

She still didn't move, much to Harry's dismay.

"My name is Abby, by the way," she offered, uncertainly.

"Yes, I deduced that from your name tag."

She looked down at her uniform and gave a small chuckle. "Oh, would you look at that…" she said to herself. "Well, anyway, can I get you anything else, Mr…?"

"No, I'm fine with my coffee, thanks," he said.

"Right…well, I'll just leave you to it, then," she said with a smile.

Harry watched her leave. Then, taking a sip of his coffee, he turned back around to stare listlessly out the window once again.

* * *

Abby sighed in relief as the last customer left the café. Somehow, some way, she had made it through her first day at work.

"Did Crab-Apple leave?"

Abby looked up at her co-worker, Maggie. "What?" she asked.

"It's what we call the Boss when she's not around," Maggie explained as she began wiping down the tables.

"That's an accurate nickname, if I ever heard one," Abby muttered.

Maggie laughed. "Yeah, don't worry about her. She gives everyone a hard time."

" _Everyone_ doesn't switch people's orders, knock over chairs, and spill burning, hot coffee on customers."

"Well," Maggie said with a sly smile. "You did get a reaction out of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Which is a first, mind you."

" _Who_? And what's with all the nicknames?" Abby asked feeling bewildered.

"The unfortunate customer you spilled coffee on. He comes in here practically every day, but never says a word to anyone. And he always orders the same exact thing. A bit strange, that one. But boy is he easy on the eyes," Maggie said, shaking her head.

Abby considered these words for a moment, picturing the man's face in her mind. "He seemed sad," she said.

Maggie merely shrugged, continuing her vigorous wiping. "Dunno. Couldn't even tell you his name."

"Couldn't you just see it on his credit card or something?" Abby asked.

"Always pays with cash."

The two continued on in silence after that until they were finished. Wishing each other goodnight, they walked their separate ways.

It was a mad first day at work, and she couldn't wait to change into her pyjamas and become one with the couch. However, throughout her entire walk back to the flat, and even as she flipped endlessly through channels on the telly, one thought simply wouldn't leave her mind:

_What's his name? Mr. One Black Coffee._


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright Mr. and Mrs. Bradford, here is the very last piece of apple crumble that  _must_ be shared equally between the two of you. I won't be having any fights over pudding on my watch," Abby said in mock-seriousness as she glanced back and forth between the elderly couple in front of her.

Mrs. Bradford smiled sweetly and patted the young girl's arm. "We'll play nicely, dear, we promise."

Abby bowed her head politely then walked back to pick up another order.

"You really are quite the chatter box, aren't you?" Maggie asked.

Abby shrugged. "I have to entertain myself somehow. Might as well try and be social," she said. "Besides those two come in all time and they are too adorable for their own good."

"Speaking of social interactions," Maggie said, suddenly. "Or lack thereof…"

Abby looked up at the tinkle of the bell that signalled a new customer, and when she saw who it was, a look of determination suddenly flitted across her face.

Maggie raised an eyebrow in her direction. "What are you going to do, eat him?"

Abby scrunched up her nose. "Nah, he'd probably just taste bitter," she said quietly causing Maggie to giggle.

Steeling herself, she made her way over to his table and plastered a bright smile on her face. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you?" she said.

"Black coffee," they both said together.

The man looked at her with an expression that clearly stated he wasn't amused.

Abby, on the other hand, couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Jinx?"

He ignored her, but she wasn't fazed. For nearly a month now, Abby had attempted to get more than two words out of this man, and each time he had managed to put a stop to her attempts. If there were a medal for conversation enders, he would surely win it.

"Nice day out," she said, taking her time to carefully write down his order.

He made a noise of affirmation.

"Got any big plans for the weekend, then?"

He unfurled the newspaper, taking care to make as much noise as possible, and disappeared within the large pages.

"Blimey, is that the date?" Abby exclaimed, squinting her eyes to examine the first page. "I could've sworn March had begun just five minutes ago. Funny how time flies…"

Nothing.

Poking her head up above the paper so he could see her, she flashed him a warm smile. "I'll go get you that coffee."

"I don't know why you bother," Maggie said as soon as she returned. "Why don't you just leave the poor man to his antisocial existence? He's not hurting anyone."

Abby considered these words for a moment as she unconsciously bit her nails.

"Stop that. It's so unsanitary I want to cry," Maggie said knocking her hand away from her mouth.

Abby rolled her eyes, then slumped back against the countertop. "I don't know what it is…he just seems really lonely."

"Well, you don't know that," the girl said. "He could have a whole other life outside with friends and people that he loves. We're waitresses, Abby, not therapists."

"I know, I know," she said, pouring a cup of coffee before her boss saw them loitering. "I'm just being silly."

She then walked over to his table and set the mug down. "Here you are."

He thanked her then continued on with his reading.

Abby knew she should turn back around now. She should take Maggie's advice and just leave the bloke alone.

"Can I ask your name?" she blurted out suddenly.

He looked up at her with a wary expression. "Why?"

"Well the thing is…I like to know everyone's names. See those two over there? That's Mr. and Mrs. Bradford. They're the sweetest old couple you could ever meet. And in the back is Layla, she's a university student who likes to come here and revise. Ralph works in construction and has a large appetite for sweets even though he should really watch his blood sugar levels. Don't tell him I told you, but I only put one spoon of sugar in his tea instead of two. He never even notices—"

"It's Harry."

"No…his name is Ralph," Abby said in confusion.

" _My_  name is Harry."

"Oh."

Silence fell between them for a moment.

"That's what you want to know, isn't it?" he said. "You'll leave me alone now?"

A bright smile flashed across her face. "Harry…" she repeated, trying the name out. " _Harry_."

He stared at her blankly. "Yes, it's quite common."

"All right, I'll leave you alone," she said, ignoring his remark. "But before I go, can you do something for me?"

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms across his chest. "What?" he said.

"Tell me one fact about yourself. Just one. So that I can associate it with you in future," she said.

"Do you do this to all your customers?" he said in a tired voice.

"Nope. Just the regulars," she said with a smile.

Harry turned his head toward the window, as if considering her request. "I don't like having conversations with strangers," he said finally, turning back to face her with the smallest hint of smugness in his expression.

Abby raised an eyebrow. "And that's it? That's what you want to be known as? Harry, the non-conversationalist."

"I lead a mundane life," he said, smoothing out the newspaper so he could continue reading. "You best run along now. There's that job of yours, I think?"

Abby was about to turn around before she stopped and faced him again. "Er…you know that whole thing about leaving you alone?" she said cautiously. "I probably won't. Just a warning."

With that, she walked briskly back toward the counter.

* * *

Harry watched as the current bane of his existence quickly disappeared from view. He refused to acknowledge her by her real name. It would just enable her, and he would have none of that.

But sweet Merlin, the girl was persistent.

No matter how many verbal and nonverbal cues he gave her, she would still carry on with her one-sided conversations, content to hear herself speak.

She was extremely strange, unfailingly annoying, and much too chipper for her own good.

Glancing at his watch, Harry stood up to leave. He dug into his pocket for a couple of pounds and placed them on the table.

"Bye Harry!" said a voice behind him as he neared the door.

Barely looking in her direction, he gave a polite head nod before stepping outside.

It was still a bit early, but he wanted to make an escape from the suffocating confines of unwanted conversation. It wasn't as though he hated the girl. He just simply longed for the days when he could get a cup of coffee and stare numbingly out the window without anyone bothering him. It was usually his only moment of peace and quiet in the day, but alas, just like all good things, this had to come to an end, as well.

This last thought caused the ever present ache in his chest to give a small twinge, but he refused to acknowledge it. Now wasn't the time.

Harry increased his pace a little as he saw the building come into view. He still had about fifteen minutes, but he could start to see others pulling in with their cars or making their way on foot. One couple arrived on bikes together, the envy of other mums or dads who simply did not have the time or energy to implement exercise into their daily schedules.

Harry could feel a little flutter of excitement in his chest as he took a seat on a bench, waiting patiently for one of his favourite moments of the day.

A small smile spread across his face as the doors opened and a stampede of children ran out, an eruption of noise following them.

A little red-headed girl with hair loose down to her shoulders and a large toothy grin whizzed passed all the other children, running straight at him like a bullet.

"Daddy!" she yelled.

Harry caught her in his arms and lifted her up as she placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"And how's my Lily flower doing today?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her eyes and giving her tiny nose a kiss in return.

"Good," she said enthusiastically, squirming out of his arms so she could walk beside him.

Harry let her down, taking her backpack in one hand as she reached for the other.

"I painted a Batman today," she said as she hopped over a crack in the pavement.

"Oh? I can't wait to see it," Harry said with a warm smile. "Do you want to give this one to Nana Molly, or put it up in your room with the others?"

Lily tapped a finger to her chin as if she was pondering this carefully. "Give it to Nana!" she said, jumping over another crack.

"I agree. She loves your Batmans almost as much as me."

Lily giggled loudly as if this idea were absurd. "Nuh-uh," she said.

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Yuh-huh"

"Yu—hey!" she called out, realising what he had done and giving him a small pout. "That's cheating, Daddy."

"I apologise," he said, picking her up again as they neared the apparition point. "Okay, hold on, flower."

She hugged him tightly as the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube enveloped them both, and then seconds later, they appeared in the field outside the Burrow.

"Race ya!" Harry said as soon as they landed.

He let Lily zoom past him on her little legs as he followed behind her at a much slower pace.

"Beat you, Daddy," she said with a smug grin as they both made it to the back door.

"I don't know how you run so fast," he panted, wiping invisible beads of sweat from his forehead. "Must be all that broccoli."

Lily made a face at the mention of a vegetable, and he grinned in amusement before knocking on the door.

Molly opened not seconds later with a broad smile on her face, bending down to squeeze her granddaughter in her arms and smother her with kisses.

She then ushered the both of them in, giving Harry an equally bone crushing embrace.

"Hugo is here, sweetheart," Molly said, earning an excited squeal from Lily as she rushed into the sitting room.

"Will you be able to handle those two on your own?" Harry asked with a small smile.

Molly chuckled, summoning a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits for him as the two sat at the kitchen table. "Even on their worst days, I still don't think they could compete with Fred and George," she said.

She took a sip of her tea, but Harry could still see the ever present pain in her eyes when she mentioned Fred's name. It never went away, the pain. It was always lingering right there beneath the surface, just waiting to spring out and overwhelm a person.

He shook his head of those thoughts. Now wasn't the time.

"How are the boys doing?" Molly asked, as if sensing where his thoughts were going. "I feel like I haven't seen them in ages."

"You saw them on Sunday," he said with a chuckle.

"Yes, yes, but you know how Sundays go. This poor, old house becomes full to the brim. I barely have enough time to give everyone a Molly Weasley hug," she said.

"And heaven forbid anyone is ever robbed of one," he said, earning a playful swat on the arm.

"All I'm saying is, I love seeing all of you on Sunday, but I also love it when I can talk with you one on one. Like this," Molly said, patting his hand affectionately.

Harry smiled at her fondly. "I know," he said. "I'll bring them over sometime this week, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that, young man."

He looked at his watch and then sighed. "I should get going," he said, standing up and heading toward the sitting room. "Lils, I'm leaving, okay? Are you going to be good for Nan?"

Lily immediately jumped up from her colouring book and latched onto his leg. "No!" she shouted.

"No, you're not going to be good?"

"No, you're not leaving!" she said.

Hugo, who was prone to copying Lily's every move, latched onto Harry's other leg and started crying.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he ruffled the boy's hair. "What's wrong with you little guy? You going to miss me too?"

He nodded silently into his leg.

"It's okay, Hugo," Lily said, taking his hand and consoling him. "Daddy's only gonna be gone for a coupla hours."

Harry bent down and gave both of them a hug and kiss, promising that he'd see them soon. Once Hugo's tears finally subsided, he walked back into the kitchen to give Molly a peck on the cheek before leaving.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, you have an important memo waiting on your desk," his secretary informed him as he walked past her toward his office.

"Thanks, Anna," he said, pushing the door open with his foot as he balanced a stack of papers and books in his hands.

He placed the papers amidst the other piles that littered his desk, rifling through everything to try and find this so called important memo. Giving up quickly, he  _accio_ -ed it and watched as it zoomed toward him from the rubbish bin beside his desk.

Harry let out sniff of amusement. "This bodes well…"

Reading it over quickly, he tossed it back into the bin. He then picked up the strap of his briefcase and swung it over his shoulder as he headed back out his office and down the corridor to the east wing.

He could hear the sound of people chatting loudly, but once he opened the door to the classroom and walked in, a hushed silence fell over the group as they looked up at him in earnest.

"Terrible…Despicable…Sad, even."

A pin drop could be heard in the room now as all eyes stared up at him fearfully. A couple of their faces were even starting to turn a greenish whitish colour.

"Only one exam with full marks!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms out and then placing them on his hips with his head down. "The rest were just E's and A's…"

An explosion of voices suddenly broke through the silence like a gunshot.

People were laughing, patting each other on the back, or just slumping down in their chairs with relief.

"That was so not cool, sir. Not even in the slightest!"

"I nearly had a heart attack…"

"Does this mean I didn't fail?"

"Who was the tosser that got full marks?"

Harry chuckled, leaning back against his desk and picking up the exams. "Alright, alright, settle down," he called over the noise. "You all did  _surprisingly_  well."

This earned him several boos which only made a smirk form on his face.

"There are a couple of things I need to go over, however," he said, tapping his wand on the pile of exams and causing them to whiz back towards their owners. "Who can explain to me, in detail, the correct mechanism for a full-body transfiguration spell? Most of you seemed to have particular trouble with the cranial region, which is understandable as it is the most complicated. Nevertheless, we did go over it. So…any takers?"

Everyone's eyes seemed to shift away from his at once.

"Anyone…?" he asked again. "Sarah?"

The blonde, freckled girl suddenly blushed a bright red. "Erm…you wrote that I should've gone into more detail…" she said.

"And can you now?" Harry said, knowing she knew the answer but was too shy to explain.

He moved on from her, however, when her face started to rival a tomato.

"Come on, you lot," he said with a groan. "My 13 year old godson could answer this question."

"Isn't he a metamorphmagus?" said a voice in the back.

"Aren't you a second year auror in training?" Harry said with a raised eyebrow.

Everyone let out a long string of "ooh's" at his remark.

Harry sighed and then waved his wand at the board, showing them all the correct paragraph answer he was looking for.

"Learn it, memorise, live it, breathe it," he said "This is one of the most important aspects of the Concealment and Disguise unit. You  _must_ know everything there is to know about human transfiguration. Is that understood?"

Everyone gave murmurs and nods of assent. After that, he continued on with their lesson of the day.

As usual on days when tests were given back, a long queue of students assembled in front of his desk to ask questions at the end of the lecture. And as usual, he wanted to pull his hair out by the end of it.

He looked up to find one last student.

"Sarah," he said, giving her a kind smile. "What can I do for you? You got an Outstanding, I can't imagine you have any questions."

She held the strap of her bag tight against her, and Harry could see her knuckles starting to turn white. "I just wanted to apologise."

He looked at her in confusion. "What for?"

"For not answering that question at the beginning of class," she replied, still not looking at him.

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "You don't have to apologise for that. Listen, I understand that you're a little shy—"

"A little?"

"Okay…extremely shy," he said, causing her face to heat up slightly. "But you have the brains and the power to become an excellent auror."

She glanced up at this, the faintest spark alight in her eyes.

"But one of the most important aspects of this job is having the courage to face whatever may come. And I don't doubt for one second that you have it in you," he said. "Speaking in front of people or with people you don't know is just one more form of courage."

She nodded her head. "I understand, sir," she said, shifting her eyes up to meet his.

"Can I assign you one more task for the weekend?" he asked.

Sarah gave him a small smile. "I suppose, so," she shrugged.

"Start a conversation," he said, earning a surprised look from her in return.

She nodded once more, nonetheless. And as they both parted their separate ways, he mulled his last words to her over and over in his mind. And throughout the entire walk back to his office, an ironic voice kept ringing in his ear:

_This coming from Harry, the non-conversationalist._


	3. Chapter 3

"Let's go, let's go, let's go. We've got ten minutes!" Harry called up the staircase, attempting to do up his tie while simultaneously taking a bite out of his toast. "First one down can have chocolate for dinner."

"Really?" cried an excited voice.

"No, but that would be pretty great, wouldn't it?" he yelled back, summoning his papers haphazardly into his bag.

He heard the sound of feet stomping down the steps and looked up to see Albus, done first as usual.

"Eat up quickly, we haven't got much time," Harry said, setting a plate in front of him. "Where's your sister? I got her dressed before you two even woke up."

Albus merely shrugged as he stuffed a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

Harry groaned and climbed up the staircase two steps at a time. "James?" he called, popping his head into the boy's room. "What's the hold up, mate? We have to get a move on."

"It's not my fault. Al took a  _billion_  years in the shower," he answered, grabbing his backpack and walking past him.

Harry nearly pulled his hair out when he found Lily in her room, sitting on the floor playing with her action figures.

"Lily, we have to get going, love. Did you not hear me calling?" he said with slight desperation in his voice.

She gave him a bright smile, following him out of the room and down the stairs.

"All right, you lot have exactly three minutes to eat," Harry announced as he walked into the kitchen.

"Done!" Al said, looking at his brother smugly.

"You started before me, that's not even fair," James said with his mouth full.

"It's not my fault you—"

"Stop," Harry cut in immediately. "It's not a competition. Just finish your breakfast."

Three minutes later, the group of four made their way over to the fireplace to floo to the Leaky Cauldron in London. James and Albus travelled separately, followed by Harry carrying Lily in his arms.

The fireplace in the small pub was the closest to James and Al's school, but unfortunately they always managed to run into someone on days when they were already cutting it close on time.

Today was no exception.

"Harry?"

He groaned internally, before turning around to face none other than Seamus Finnegan.

"It  _is_  you! I haven't seen you ages, man," Seamus said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Been busy," he said with a forced smile. "Listen, I'd love to catch up, but I've got to drop the kids off at school."

Seamus looked at the three children as if noticing them for the first time, and his face erupted in a smile. "Blimey, last time I saw this one, he was still crawling," he said, patting James on the head.

The man's smile faltered a bit as he looked up at Harry as if remembering something unpleasant.

Before he could get another word in, however, Harry cleared his throat and quickly bid him good day, rushing his children out into the busy London streets.

The short ride on the Underground was filled with the usual bickering between James and Albus, but he was too tired to interfere. He hadn't gotten enough sleep last night, so he felt even more worn out than usual.

"Daddy," Lily said, tugging on his sleeve. "Am I going to Nana's house today?"

"No, Grandmum's," he answered.

Lily's eyes lit up instantly. "Will Teddy be there?"

Harry gave her a small smile. "He left for Hogwarts remember?"

"Oh yeah," she said, casting her eyes downward sadly.

"Hey," he said, tugging on a strand of her hair playfully. "Why don't you and Grandmum write him a letter?"

"Yeah!" she said enthusiastically. "I can tell him all about school and my drawings."

"He'll love it," he said, giving her little hand a squeeze.

"You should send him a Howler, Lils," James said, having overheard their conversation.

Al giggled loudly. "Can you imagine? All of Hogwarts hearing the words: ' _Teddy, I really like finger-painting!'_ "

" _I can't wait for you to come home so we can play tea party!"_ James added, causing Albus to throw his head back and giggle harder.

"Daddy, are they making fun of me?" Lily asked, looking up at him.

Harry chuckled. "No, love. They're just easily amused."

Once they arrived at their stop, they got off and walked the short distance to the muggle primary school where the boys attended.

"Listen, Jamie," Harry said quietly, bending slightly so that they were face to face. "I need you to remember the tricks I taught you to control your magic, okay? We don't want another incident like last week."

"I told Andy he was just seeing things and he believed me," James insisted.

"But it'll be harder to convince your teacher or a large group of kids if it happens in front of them."

James sighed. "I know. I'll try, Dad. I promise," he said. "It's not fair. How come Al doesn't have problems controlling his magic?"

"Everyone's different," Harry said with a shrug. "I did heaps of underage magic when I was a kid."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes, but it caused a lot of unpleasant situations, let me tell you," Harry said. "Trust me, you're better off learning to control it. It'll help you become a more powerful wizard one day."

"But  _you're_ a powerful wizard, Dad," James said with a grin.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, son," he said, patting the boy's cheek and standing up straight. "All right, Grandmum's picking you two up later. Don't cause too much trouble. Have a great day. Did I forget anything?"

"Kisses!" Lily said from her spot on the bench.

The two boys groaned as he swooped them up for a hug and a kiss each, and then sent them on their way.

"Ready?" Harry asked, taking Lily's hand as they walked toward the back alley so that they could apparate away.

When they reached the entrance of her school, he crouched down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in a couple of hours," he said, as Lily squeezed him tight.

He watched her run up the steps and disappear through the door, a wistful smile on his face as he turned around to walk the short distance to the Ministry.

* * *

"Bloody effing  _hell_."

Abby stepped out of her room that morning to find her flat completely in ruins. The kitchen was an absolute atrocity. Bottles and cups littered every inch of the sitting room. And to make matters worse, there was a complete stranger sleeping on the couch.

"CLARA!" she yelled, stomping toward the girl's room and pounding loudly on her door.

There was a grunt from inside and then silence.

Abby slammed the door open, undeterred, and threw the covers off her flatmate.

" _Christ_ , what is it?" she groaned.

"What is it?  _What is it?_ " Abby said, absolutely fuming. "Have you seen the state of this place? It's an absolute disaster. I don't know when you found time to have a party or how I managed to sleep through it, but if you think for one second that I'm just going to clean up your mess as usual, then you have another thing coming!"

Clara squinted up at her. "Can we just whisper, please?"

"Are you even listening?" Abby shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it all right?" she said, pulling a pillow over her face.

Abby shook her head. "I've got to get to work. Just…please don't let me down," she said.

She closed the door behind her and leaned her head against it for a moment, breathing in deeply.

"Just brush it off," she whispered to herself, rubbing a hand across her face, and then making a beeline toward the door.

Abby pulled her thin jacket tighter around herself as she stepped into the slightly chilly morning air. The sky was overcast, but there was no sign of any rain yet. Not that she minded rain, really. It tended to bring her comfort on days like this, when all her life's prospects seemed to fizzle out into nothingness right before her eyes.

"Oh shut it with the drama," she reprimanded herself.

She sped up her pace a bit, stopping outside a shop window and pressing her nose against it.

"Migh' as well come in," said a voice next to her.

Abby looked up at the tall black man currently unlocking the door and gave him a wide grin.

"If you insist!" she said, following him inside, and heading straight for the large pearly white grand piano in the corner.

"How's my little guy doing?" she asked, just barely skimming her fingers across the top.

"Same as the last time you visited him…two days ago."

Abby sighed lovingly as she sat on a nearby chair and stared at it.

"You do realise that if someone comes in here with enough money, I'm going to have to sell it to them," he said, leaning against the worktop and giving her a sympathetic look.

"A girl can dream, Ollie," she said, unfazed.

The man chuckled. "Well don't ever stop dreaming, then, sweetheart," he said, heading into the back room.

Abby turned back to the object of her affections, a look of longing on her face. "You'll be mine someday. I promise," she whispered, patting it gently.

Her fingers practically ached with the need to play those beautiful ivory keys, but she knew Ollie would have her head if she so much as breathed on them. This piano cost more than she made in a year, and it would probably take her a lifetime to save up enough for it.

With that thought, she called out a goodbye, before heading off to her real job in the small café where her true talents would never be utilised.

* * *

"Simmons, in my office, please," Harry called, causing whispers to break out amongst the other cubicles.

The young auror followed Harry through the door, nervousness clearly written on his face.

"Have a seat," Harry said, gesturing towards the chair as he closed the door behind him.

There was silence for a moment as he searched through a file and pulled out a few papers.

"I just received the report from your last mission," Harry said in a serious voice. "Did your team leader discuss what she wrote in here with you?"

Simmons nodded, looking down into his clasped hands.

Harry heaved a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Look, you're a good auror with strong instincts, but that doesn't give you the right to just ignore orders from your superiors. This is your second offense," he said. "One more, and I'll have to put you on probation."

"I know, sir. I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies," he said with a bit of heat in his voice. "I want you to prove to me that you belong here. When you don't follow a direct order, you lose the trust of your team members, and that puts you all at more risk. I won't have you endangering anyone simply because your pride got in the way."

Simmons looked up into his eyes and nodded. "I won't let you down, sir. I promise."

"You go tell that to your team. Not me," Harry said, motioning his head toward the door.

The young auror nodded once more before exiting the office.

"What did you do to Simmons? I haven't seen him that unsettled since he found that Boggart in the broom cupboard."

"Ever heard of knocking, Davis?" Harry said, not bothering to look up.

She ignored him, of course, taking a seat on the edge of his desk. "Training starts in ten minutes."

"Yes, I'm aware," he said, annoyance heavily lacing his tone.

"Well, you're not dressed yet," she pointed out, twirling her wand between her fingers.

"Some of us actually do stuff around here," Harry said, looking up at her finally. "Can you be a mate for once in your life and start training without me? I'll be there in a bit."

She jumped off the desk and gave him a very low bow. "Anything for our royal saviour."

"Real mature, Tracey," he said, not amused.

She smirked at him before closing the door shut behind her.

* * *

"All right, one more lap!" Tracey called from her spot in the centre of the track.

Harry rolled his eyes as he walked up to her. "You know you're supposed to do the exercises with them," he said, taking the clipboard from her hands and checking it over.

"Then who would correct their form?" she said before tapping a finger to his forehead. "You have to think like a Slytherin, Potter."

"I'll pass thanks," he said, flicking her hand away.

He watched as the trainees made their way toward to two of them, ready to begin their session for the day. Some of them appeared relieved that he was actually present, as a day with Auror Davis alone always managed to end with at least one person in tears.

Harry led them through their regular drills, checking every minute detail of their wand and footwork. He then lined them up and called for Davis to start the offensive attacks.

She was by no means merciful in their training sessions. On more than one occasion, Harry even had to tell her to back off slightly so no one would obtain any unnecessary injuries. But she would just give him a sly smile and say that a real opponent wouldn't back off.

"Hold," Harry called, signalling for Tracey to stop. "Laura, you can't forget your footwork."

He walked up to the girl in front, and leaned down, holding her back leg in place. "I'm going to put a sticking charm on it," he told her. "You have to keep it planted."

The girl looked down at him with slightly wide eyes and a blush colouring her cheeks.

He thought he heard someone giggle towards the back of the line, but he ignored it and stood back up.

"Something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Rowland?" Tracey called, raising an eyebrow.

The girl in question shook her head quickly, trying to meld herself back into the crowd.

"What is it?" Harry said when he made his way back next to Davis.

She merely rolled her eyes at him. "Nothing, Potter. Just start them up again."

For the next two hours, the trainees went through gruelling drills and exercises, both physical and magical. They ended, as usual, with a duelling competition. The winner had the privilege of running one less lap than everyone else at the end of the day. Though, as Tracey adamantly reiterated, this was more of a punishment than a privilege. Not that anyone really agreed.

"You're too soft on them," she told Harry as they made their way toward the locker rooms to change.

"Someone has to balance you out," he said. "And anyway, how am I 'soft'? I work them just as hard as you."

"That's extremely debatable," she said in a patronising fashion.

"Well, apparently my methods have proven to be successful," he said, gesturing towards her.

Tracey snorted. "Please, you were just a wee little assistant instructor back then. You can hardly take credit for me," she said.

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," Harry said, turning around and heading towards the men's locker room.

"Oi, Potter!" she called out suddenly, as if remembering something.

"What?" he said.

"You better watch out for Rowland and Samuels, yeah? I'm pretty sure those two have got the hots for you," she said, derision clear in her voice.

"You're mental," he said over his shoulder.

Tracey let out a bark of laughter as she walked to the other end of the large gym.

* * *

"But how do you get it so perfect?"

Abby took the girl's long braid carefully in her hand and observed it as if looking through a magnifying glass.

"Hours and hours of practice," said Lisa, a teenage girl who Abby found out was skiving off classes in order to avoid winning the perfect attendance award.

"I could never do that with my hair," Abby said with a frown. "It's not long enough, is it?"

Lisa stared at Abby calculatingly, taking in the straight, brown hair that came down to her shoulders. "No," she concluded. "It wouldn't be possible just yet. But you know, I think the length suits you. You've got more of an oval face, so it complements it well. I might suggest getting more pronounced layers so you have that windblown sort of effect, you know what I mean?"

Abby was writing all of this down rapidly on her note pad. Seeing her boss walking towards them out of the corner of her eye, she straightened up suddenly and cleared her throat. "Would you like a slice of pie with that, as well?" she said in a loud voice.

"Can you name off the pies for me again?" Lisa asked innocently.

 _Bless her_ , thought Abby.  _I always knew I wanted a little sister._

She winked at the girl before walking away to retrieve her actual order.

Abby looked up as the bell tinkled. It was Harry, in all his gloom and doom, arriving exactly at the same time as he always did. She noticed that he appeared more exhausted than usual, and wondered momentarily if he was okay.

"Here you are. One lovely chocolate milkshake with a slice of the best rhubarb pie you have ever eaten in your life," she said, placing the order on Lisa's table.

The young girl smiled brightly and thanked her.

Abby then walked back to the counter before heading to Harry's table.

"Enjoy," she said, placing the mug in front of him.

He looked up at her with one eyebrow raised. "Am I that predictable?"

The sheer absurdity of that statement along with his straight face caused Abby to let out a small laugh.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Am I going mad, or did you just make a joke?"

He turned his head away from her which only caused her smile to widen further.

"Come on, just admit it," she said, giving him a small poke in the shoulder. "Admit that you made a joke. Go on."

He grabbed her finger carefully and moved it away from him. "You are truly, the most obnoxious person I have ever met. And believe me, that's saying something."

Abby placed a hand against her heart. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said.

"Take it however you like," he said, opening up the paper and disappearing behind it.

She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment thinking that she'd really like to see him smile just once.

It took her a month to get his name. What was one more month, really?


	4. Chapter 4

"Can I ask you question?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Harry said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Abby was sitting on a chair at the table across from him, hand on her chin, leg swinging back and forth. It was rather a slow day due to the heavy rainfall outside, and her boss wasn't in which meant she didn't have to pretend to be doing anything.

"But I'm so bored," she said, throwing her head back as she slouched in her seat.

"Can I ask  _you_  a question?" Harry said, glancing up at her.

She perked up slightly. "Sure!" she said with enthusiasm.

"Of the few people in here, why on earth would you come to me to relieve you from your boredom?" he said.

"Well, I don't know anyone else that well, do I?" she said as if it were obvious.

"And you know me well?" he said, one eyebrow raised.

Abby shrugged, slouching back in her seat again. "Well enough, I suppose," she said. "Your name is Harry…you like coffee…you dislike talking to people…and despite what you may have me believe, you're not a mean person."

He stared at her. His haunting green eyes meeting her open blue ones.

"Am I wrong?"

He didn't respond.

"Go on, then. Tell me, am I wrong?" she said.

He exhaled heavily, gazing down at his cup. "Why do you do this?" he said.

"Do what?"

"Why do you try so hard to know people?" he said.

Abby looked at him as if this question was absurd. "Do I need a reason?" she said, playing with her necklace.

"Yes."

"I dunno…everyone has something to offer, I suppose," she said with a shrug. Then giving him a small smile, she added: "Even you."

Harry folded his hands in his lap and looked at her. "And what is it you want from me? A piece of wisdom…a neat party trick…a fun anecdote?"

"No, none of that," she said. "I don't want anything."

"Then why do you continue trying to talk to me?"

Abby didn't respond right away. The truth was, she didn't really have an answer to that herself. "I just—I dunno. I can usually get a person's whole life story in five minutes. But with you…nothing," she said. "And I understand that you like your privacy, and I respect that. I'm not asking you to share your life with me…I just like talking to you, I guess."

"But I don't talk back," he said.

Abby smiled. "Well…you're talking back now, aren't you?" she pointed out.

He stared at her with that tired look of his, as if the mere presence of her drained him.

"I can't really help it, can I?" he said. "You're relentless."

Abby couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "You wouldn't be the first to tell me that, believe it or not," she said.

"Oh, I believe it."

He shook his head, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets and looking out the window.

Abby knew what that meant. He was done talking.

But she wasn't bothered. They had had their first real two-sided conversation since the day she'd spilled coffee on him all those weeks ago.

The thought satisfied her, somehow. She couldn't really explain it, just like how she couldn't really explain what it was about Harry that drew her to him. She found him interesting, yes. But she found many people interesting.

There was just something about him, she mused. His demeanour was cold and aloof, but his eyes…his eyes could never be so. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much, yet they were still filled with a warmth that stubbornly penetrated through.

Who was he? She told him she respected his privacy, but she still longed to know.

Abby sighed softly. There really was no cap to her curiosity, she thought, watching him stand up to leave not long after.

"See you tomorrow, Harry," she called as he reached the door.

He paused for a moment in the action of turning the handle.

"See you…Abby," he said.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for him, he didn't turn around to see the dazzling smile that spread across her face.

"That's my name," she told a random customer sitting near her. "It's Abby."

And somehow, it never sounded as pleasant as it did in that moment.

* * *

Harry waited outside the school with a small smile on his face. When the doors opened, he could immediately spot two heads of black hair conversing with each other while other kids ran past them, eager to get home.

He couldn't get over how cute they looked at that moment, but he knew if he ever shared that with them, they'd have his head.

He laughed quietly as they walked right past him, paying him no mind and sitting together on the bench. Al's legs were swinging back and forth as he opened up a book to read while they waited. James was digging through his bag, looking for something.

Probably sweets, Harry thought as he walked closer to them to hear their conversation.

"Why do you think Nan's late?" James asked, taking a bite out of his chocolate bar.

Al shrugged. "She's not really late yet, is she? We only just got out," he said, ever the reasonable one.

"I bet it's Lily's fault. You know how she gets whenever we have to go anywhere," James said, ignoring him.

"Yeah, just like you," Al said, flipping a page of his book.

James shoved him hard in the shoulder, causing his book to topple over.

In response, Al glared at his brother and then knocked the chocolate bar out of his hands.

"Oi! What did you go and do that for? You just ruined a perfectly good treat!" James exclaimed, bending down to pick it, wiping it off, then taking another bite.

Al looked at him in disgust. "That's gross," he said.

"Hey…do you think I should tell Dad about what happened?" James said suddenly.

Harry, who had been just about to reveal himself, paused abruptly in his step. Sure he felt a little guilty about eavesdropping on his sons, but his curiosity won out.

"You mean during break?" Al asked.

"Obviously."

"Well, you have to, right?" he said. "Dad won't get mad. He'll know it was just an accident."

"I know, but…I promised I would try and control it," James said with a small frown.

"You did try, didn't you?" Al said. "It's not like you  _wanted_  to make those piles of mud attack Billy."

James gave him mischievous smile. "Well, I did sort of want to. I just didn't plan on doing it magically, is all."

Both boys giggled quietly to themselves at the thought.

"Well, as long as you don't tell Dad about  _that—"_

"Don't tell Dad about what?" Harry interrupted.

James and Al whipped their heads up simultaneously, surprised to see him standing before them.

"Dad!" they cried, identical grins on their faces.

"What are you doing here?" James said.

"I got out of work early, and figured I'd come pick you up. Are you disappointed?" Harry said with a teasing look.

They shook their heads quickly, causing him to chuckle.

"So, does this mean you're free all day?" James said as they walked down the street.

"Yup, we can do anything you like," Harry said.

The two boys whooped and high fived each other.

"As long as it isn't illegal…" he added.

"Let's get ice cream!" James said, pulling him toward a shop down the street.

"Whoa, hold on there, mate," Harry laughed. "We can't go without your sister. We'd never hear the end of it."

James rolled his eyes. "Can't we just bring some home for her?"

"It would melt, stupid," Al told him.

"There's this thing called magic,  _stupid_ ," James said.

Al opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut him off, leaning down between them with his arms around their shoulders. "If you fight, then I'm buying you vegetables instead."

That silenced them.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, both boys sprinted toward the grate in the corner and then flooed to the Burrow with Harry following after them.

He landed in the sitting room, not as gracefully as he would have hoped, to find that they had already disappeared.

"James, Albus. How many times have I told you to wait by the fireplace until I come out?" he called as he entered the kitchen. "You could end up on the other side of the country, for all I know."

"Harry!"

He looked up in surprise to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table next to Molly. She quickly rushed up to greet him, embracing him in a warm hug.

"What's with all the love?" he said, patting her on the back.

She pinched his arm causing him to hiss in pain. "I haven't seen you for two weeks, you prat," she said, letting him go to get a good look at him.

She frowned slightly as she surveyed him, but thankfully didn't make any comment. He knew she would release it all on him later, though. The 'you have to take better care of yourself' nonsense.

"Did you have fun?" he asked her, greeting Molly as he picked up a scone.

"Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed a week-long conference littered with stuffy law officials," Hermione said.

"Well, you must have been right at home?" Harry said, causing Molly to try her best to withhold a small giggle.

"Oh, very funny," she said with small smile. "Anyway, I heard you have the day off. At least, that's what I could ascertain from James' and Al's shouts."

"You ascertained correctly. I was going to take the kids out for ice cream, do you want to join us?"

"I can't," Hermione said with a look of regret. "I have to pop in to the Ministry before heading home."

"Well, I'm sure Rosie and Hugo would want to come," Harry said, grabbing another scone.

Molly gave him a small frown. "Harry, dear…five children are quite a handful. Are you sure that's the best idea?" she said, trying to reason with him. "Especially when sugar is involved."

"It'll be fine," he said, waving off her concern. "It's not the first time I've had all five of them."

"Well, yes, but—"

"It's not the first time," Harry repeated, giving Hermione a look that clearly said to drop it.

She sighed heavily. "Fine, but why don't you go to Fortescue's so Ron can meet up with you?" she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so one of the kid's faces can be plastered on the morning paper. No, thank you. You know I hate going to Diagon Alley unless I have to," he said, getting up to leave.

"He's got a point, dear," Molly said, patting her daughter-in-law's arm.

"Oh, all right," Hermione said with a sigh. "But don't forget Hugo's allergies. They keep growing in number every day, it seems. And don't let Rose swindle you into buying her two cones. I don't know where that girl gets her deviousness from…"

Harry raised a brow at her. "Yeah, I wonder."

"Anything else…?" she asked herself, ignoring his remark. "Oh! Have fun."

She hugged him one last time and gave him a peck on the cheek, before sending him off to the garden.

He spotted the kids playing a vigorous game of It, and was content to simply stand there and watch for a bit, a soft smile playing on his features. It wasn't until James and Rosie started bickering that he decided to step in. Their fights were legendary, after all.

"I tagged you, you're It!" James said.

"I told you I'm  _safe_ , James," she said, tapping the tree next to her.

"We said only wood was safe," he said, looking at her as if she were barmy.

Rose let out a growl, her hands balling into fists and her face turning a Weasley shade of red. "Trees  _are_  wood!" she hissed.

"All right, all right, calm down, you two," Harry said, making his way over to them.

Rosie's glare immediately melted into a large grin when she saw him, and then ran up to give him a hug.

"Uncle Harry, can you please tell James that he's an idiot," she said with a pout, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes.

"Dad, can you please tell Rose that lying is wrong," he said, saying her name with distaste.

Harry looked between the two of them with a sigh. "I hate to break it to you Jamie, but Rose is right. Wood is found in trees, therefore technically she is safe."

"Ha!" she exclaimed, sticking her tongue out at her cousin.

James glowered at her, crossing his arms in a huff.

"Well, I came out here to tell you lot that I was going to head into town for some ice cream. I don't suppose any of you would like to join me?"

A loud chorus of "me's" followed his statement.

"All right, but you have to promise me you'll all behave. It's about a ten minute walk to town, and once we get there, no one can go wandering off. Is that understood?" he said.

They all nodded their heads enthusiastically.

"Good, let's get going then," he said, leading the way down the road.

Harry held onto Hugo's hand while James held Lily's, and Rose and Al walked together in front. The journey was filled with stories and laughter and excited little voices. And for a moment, Harry pretended that everything was as it used to be: simple and happy. The feeling brought him such comfort.

How many days had they spent like this? Gathering up all the kids on a fresh spring day along the countryside. Doing anything and nothing. How many beautiful days.

"Uncle Harry?" a voice broke through his reverie. "Uncle Harry!"

He looked down to see Rose tugging on his hand. "It's just right there, isn't it?" she said, pointing out a small shop among the others lining the road.

"Yup, good eye as usual, Rosie," he said causing her to beam in return.

They made their way across the street, the kids rushing through the door in a jumbled mass. And amidst much chaos and apologies from Harry, the shop assistant was finally able to get all their orders.

They sat outside in the bright sunlight after that, happily enjoying their ice cream.

"Hugo, I think you got more on your mouth rather than in it, mate," Harry chuckled, leaning over to wipe the boy's face.

"Daddy, I can't finish," Lily said from her spot next to him, holding out her cone.

"That's why I told you to get a small one," he sighed, taking it from her.

She paid him no mind, however, as she took off, skipping around table suddenly full of energy.

"I suppose the sugar's kicked in," Rose said wisely, as Hugo quickly followed in Lily's wake.

"I suppose it has," Harry agreed. "Watch where you're going, you two."

Just then, the shop door opened, revealing an elderly couple who were both carrying ice cream cones in their hands. Harry quickly shot out of his seat as he saw the two four-year-olds heading in their direction.

"Lily, Hugo!" he called, racing towards them.

Before he could reach, however, Hugo slammed into the older woman's legs causing her to drop her strawberry cone right on top of his head.

"I am so incredibly sorry," Harry said to the woman as he knelt down to vigorously wipe Hugo's hair. "I'll just go and replace that for you in a minute."

The woman chuckled. "Never you mind, dear. Accidents happen!"

"That's very kind of you, but I really must buy you a new one," he said, nudging the boy to apologise.

"I'm sorry," Hugo said in a small voice, his mouth set in a pout.

The couple broke out in identical affectionate smiles at the sight of him and once again tried reassuring Harry that everything was fine, but he would have none of it.

The woman thanked him profusely once he had replaced her cone and even produced a small toffee for Hugo from her purse which caused his frown to instantly disappear.

"Are they all yours, then?" the woman asked kindly when Hugo rushed off to show the others his treat.

"Oh, no. Just the two older boys and the younger redheaded girl. The other two are my niece and nephew," he said with a polite smile.

"They're all so lovely," she said with a warm look. "But I hope you don't take offense when I say that you look very young to be a father of three."

"Catherine, you're being terribly nosy. Leave the poor lad alone," her husband said, giving Harry an apologetic look.

"No, it's—it's fine," Harry insisted, despite his mounting unease at the current topic of conversation. "I was married young."

He quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets, keenly aware of the absence of a particular metal band which would surely raise even more questions.

He then cleared his throat and announced that he and the children were due to return home soon. "It was really nice meeting you," he said, shaking both their hands. "Thank you again for being so understanding."

"Oh posh! I'm glad the little one ran into me so that we could have the pleasure of meeting you all," Catherine said. "Be safe now, dears."

As soon as they left the shop and began their trek home, James turned to give his dad a curious look. "What did that lady want?" he said.

"Nothing…she just said you were lovely children," Harry said, faking a bright smile.

"Yeah, that's cause she only met Hugo," Al said, overhearing his comment.

Everyone laughed lightly, including Lily and Hugo who usually joined in even if they didn't understand what was being said.

James, however, stared up at Harry with an unsatisfied look before shaking his head and focusing back in on the conversation.

* * *

_The sun beat against the back of his neck as he stared at a figure in the distance. From this far away, all he could spot was the flaming mane of red hair, but he knew if he just closed the gap between them he would be able to see her radiant smile, her chocolate brown eyes as they danced with laughter, the freckles on her cheeks that stood proud against her fair skin._

_The large open field was filled with wildflowers that came up to his knees, but he wouldn't let them slow his pace as he ran to the distant figure, a feeling of utter elation spreading throughout his chest._

" _Harry."_

_Her voice spoke to him as if she were standing right by his side._

_He ran faster._

" _Harry."_

_It was like music to his ears. A wonderfully, sweet melody that filled him with such nostalgia that he wanted to fall down and weep._

_But he fan faster._

" _Harry."_

_He was so close. He could smell her scent in the breeze and it elicited a thousand memories that rapidly played in his mind._

" _Harry."_

" _Ginny!" he cried, enveloping her from behind and holding her small frame in his arms as he breathed in and out heavily._

_He buried his nose at the base of her neck, still clutching her desperately to him._

" _Ginny…"_

_He spoke jumbled words of love in her ear, overwhelmed by her sheer closeness and overcome by tears._

" _Ginny," he whispered, turning her around so she could face him._

_But she had grown limp in his arms, her face ghostly pale, her eyes lifeless._

_Suddenly, Harry yelled out in agony, shaking her forcefully and begging her to wake up._

" _Ginny, please…please," he howled, frantically touching every inch of her that he could reach._

" _Ginny…"_

_But she would never respond._

* * *

There was a pleasant breeze coming from the open window, but Harry paid it no mind as he sat back in his chair and stared impassively into the night sky.

A thousand thoughts swirled chaotically in his mind, keeping any chance of sleep firmly away.

He wished so desperately for the ability to just shut it all off. To put his head on the pillow and succumb to his exhaustion and fatigue. But that chance never came. It was always a battle. Every single time, it was a battle, and it never seemed to get any easier.

"Dad?"

Harry jumped a little, turning to see James standing in the dim corridor outside his study. He wiped his eyes surreptitiously before plastering on a smile.

"What are you doing up, kiddo?"

"I was thirsty," James said with a shrug, walking in and taking a seat across from him. "What about you?"

"Just, erm, finishing up some work for tomorrow," Harry said, making a show of organising his papers.

James stared at him. "I'm not a baby anymore, you know. I'm eight."

"I know," Harry said, trying not to sound defensive as he stacked up a pile of books.

" _Dad_ ," James said with more force, finally getting Harry's full attention. "You're down here because you had a bad dream…aren't you."

"And why do you say that?" Harry said quietly.

"Because it's the truth."

His words were met with silence.

"You don't have to pretend, you know. Not with me," James said, staring up into his eyes. "Cause...cause I miss her, too…sometimes."

It was as if those words were the key to unlock the floodgates in Harry's eyes. He tried his best to wipe away the tears that leaked down his face before his son could see, but he knew it was in vain.

And all of a sudden, he felt small arms wrap around his middle which only caused Harry's tears to fall faster.

He always swore that he would never break down in front of his children. For three years, he'd kept that promise. Three long years. Yet here he was now, throwing that promise away.

And over what? Some dream he'd had a hundred times over? It was nothing new. It was nothing different. Sure there were variations, but they all ended the same. And even when they didn't, he would simply wake up to a reality that rivalled even his worst nightmares.

"James…James, I'm sorry," Harry said, rubbing his son's back and kissing his black mop of hair. "I'm so sorry…"

James' only response was to hug him tighter.

But Harry continued to stubbornly wipe his tears away. "Jamie," he said gruffly, lifting the boy's head up gently to look at him. "I promise I'm okay. It was just one bad dream. That's all."

The boy stared at him, doubt clearly written on his features.

"You don't believe me," Harry said.

He shook his head.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he leaned back in his chair. "What can I do to prove it to you?" he said.

James was silent for a moment, shifting his eyes around the room.

"Don't have pretend smiles anymore."

With that, he bid him goodnight and retreated upstairs to his room, leaving Harry alone to replay those words endlessly in his mind until the first vestiges of sunlight began to appear in his study the next morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry rubbed his eyes vigorously, rereading the same sentence for the fourth time in a row. He'd promised his class that he would have their papers marked by tomorrow, but he simply could not draw up enough energy to focus on the task.

At that moment, there was a knock on his office door and he welcomed the coming distraction with earnest.

"Come in," he called, tossing the papers aside for a later date.

"Harry, they probably worked hard on those," Hermione reprimanded as she walked in and took a seat.

He shrugged. "What brings you here?" he said, slumping back in his chair and shutting his eyes.

"You," she said. "When I saw you in the lift this morning, you looked like you were ready to pass out from exhaustion."

"So you figured you should come down here and talk to me about it? I hate to break it to you, Hermione, but talking is a rather exhausting, itself."

His eyes were still closed, but he could just picture the frustration on her face.

"Could you look at me, please?" she said in a firm voice.

Harry opened his eyes and exhaled. "What?"

"You had trouble sleeping last night."

It was statement, rather than a question, but he nodded anyway.

"Did you not have a draught?" she said with her eyebrows furrowed. "Because I can brew some for you, if you need..."

"You know I don't like taking it," he said, closing his eyes once more. "I already went through withdrawal once, I don't fancy it a second time."

Hermione sighed. "If you had just listened to the Healer's advice and went to the talk therapy sessions at the start, then none of that would have happened," she said. "You can't have one without the other."

Harry couldn't think of a worse time to be having this conversation again. He was tired, his head was throbbing, and he had a mountain of paperwork that desperately needed attending to.

"Look," he said, straightening up in his seat and giving her a hard stare. "As much as I appreciate your concern, I  _really_ don't want to be having this talk right now. I barely have enough energy to mark these papers, so can we just drop it, please?"

Hermione shook her head, looking away from him. "You never want to have this talk, Harry," she said with frustration in her voice. She then turned to face him again, a look of determination in her eyes. "I'm letting this go for today because you look as if you're about to fall over. But I won't give in so easily next time. I'm not just going to let you waste away before my eyes, do you understand? Your children need you, Harry. We all need you."

She stood up abruptly and walked toward the door, but when her fingers reached the handle, she paused for a moment and looked back.

"Ginny would have never wanted this," she said, staring into his eyes before making her departure.

Harry simply gazed at the door for a long time after, too tired to feel angry or even sad. He just felt a sort of emptiness, instead.

* * *

It was quiet as he lay in his bed the next morning, a rare occurrence in the Potter household. The boys usually slept in a bit on Saturdays, but Lily was always awake at the crack of dawn.

He wondered vaguely why she hadn't barged into his room and woken him up like usual. And as much as he wanted to attempt to fall back asleep, this thought was gnawing at the back of his mind.

He squinted at the clock next to him which currently read 8:35. "Five hours…not bad," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stepped out of bed.

Yawning widely, he walked into the corridor and headed towards the room at the end.

"Lily?" he said, knocking on the door before entering.

He found her lying on her stomach at the foot of her bed, her legs swinging up in the air as she concentrated hard on staying in the lines of her colouring book. She looked up when he took a seat in front of her.

"Morning, Daddy!" she said, scrambling up and rushing over to his lap.

He was content to just hold her close to him for a while, brushing her unruly hair out of her eyes and placing a soft kiss on her little head.

She leant back against him, taking his large hand in hers and playing with each of his fingers.

"Why didn't you wake me up like usual?" Harry said, wincing slightly as she bent his pinkie back.

She shrugged.

"Lils," he tried again, sensing that something was off.

She started swinging his hand back and forth, still ignoring his question.

Harry turned her around so he could look at her, staring straight into her eyes with a pretend glare that caused her to giggle. "Go on, tell me," he said.

A small pout formed on her face. "Jamie told me not to," she said.

Harry was definitely not expecting that answer. "Did he say why?" he asked, confused.

"He said you were sleepy," she said in a small voice.

Harry sighed heavily, leaning back against the bed. He wasn't really sure how to feel. On the one hand, his heart warmed at the thought that his son cared for his well-being. But on the other, he felt as if he'd let him down. An eight-year-old boy shouldn't have to worry over his father. It was supposed to be the other way around, and this bothered Harry to no end.

"Listen," he said, playing with her fiery red locks. "James was right, I was sleepy. But you can still wake me up whenever you want, okay? I won't mind."

"But I don't want you to be sleepy," she said.

_Great. Now my four-year old is worrying about me,_ Harry thought.

"How about this," he began. "If you're ever really bored or lonely, then come and wake me, all right? But if you're fine by yourself for a while, then just come into my room and play there until I wake up. How does that sound?"

Lily took a moment to consider this. "Okay!" she said.

She just was about to go back to her colouring book, when he stopped her. "Hey," he said. "I love you."

"Love you too!"

Harry smiled as he watched her. "Why don't you bring that downstairs and I'll make you some breakfast, eh?"

"Can I have cake?" she said, following him out of the room.

"No."

"Biscuits?"

"No."

"Any pudding at all?"

"Nope."

Lily sighed.

* * *

"All set?" Harry asked, looking up when the boys came downstairs with their rucksacks. "All right, go on ahead. I'll meet you there in a minute."

They stepped into the floo one after the other before disappearing into green flames.

"Let's go, Lils, we're leaving," he called up the staircase.

She hurried down the steps as quickly as her little feet could take her.

Harry picked her up and stepped in the grate, calling out "The Burrow" loud and clear. Arriving in the sitting room, they were instantly met with a wall of noise as was the usual custom on Saturday evenings.

Lily jumped down from his arms and disappeared between the rest of her cousins. He looked around for James and Al to make sure they arrived safely and instantly spotted them by the doorway to the kitchen, giving their granddad a warm hug.

Every Saturday evening, the Weasley grandchildren would stay the night at the Burrow, as per Molly's request. Harry personally didn't understand how she was able to handle them all at once, but she and Arthur somehow always managed to get through it swimmingly.

When he entered the kitchen, he spotted Ron and Hermione talking with George near the sink and made his way over to them.

"How's it going, mate?" Ron said after he greeted them all.

Harry noticed Ron staring at him intently as if searching for something in his face. He had to refrain from rolling his eyes, certain that Hermione had discussed their conversation from yesterday with him. He wasn't sure what he could possibly be looking for, however. Age lines, grey hairs, bags under his eyes, perhaps?

"Fine. You? Any new products I should know about?" he asked, directing his question to George as well.

"Still at the drawing board. We're in a bit of a dry spell, I'm afraid," George said. "Got an idea on you, by any chance?"

Harry smiled. "Can't say I do. But I'll keep on the lookout."

He felt someone tugging on his arm and looked down to see Lily giving him her wide eyes. This could only mean one thing: she wanted something.

"Daddy…Hugo is sleeping over," she said with a casual voice.

He looked up at Ron and Hermione to confirm this.

"Rosie convinced us," Ron said with a shrug.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd never left Lily overnight, and frankly he was terrified at the thought. He knew it was somewhat irrational given that Molly and Arthur would be there along with her brothers and cousins. But still…she was only four. What if she needed him? What if she woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and didn't know who to run to? What if she got homesick? What if she got  _sick_ sick? A hundred frightening possibilities ran through his mind.

"Lily…I don't know," he said slowly.

"Please, Daddy!" she said, holding his hand as she jumped up and down. "Please, please, please, please, please! I promise I'll be good."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look at Hermione.

"She'll be fine, Harry," she said gently. "And no matter what, you're always a floo call away."

He exhaled softly. "All right, fine, you can stay," he said, finally, silencing the negative thoughts in his head.

Lily squealed in delight, squeezing him tightly in a hug. And it was almost worth it just to see the brilliant smile on her face.

He knelt down and hugged her close to him, not wanting to let go. "I want you to be good for Nana and Granddad. Listen to everything they say. And if you need anything, anything at all, tell them and they can call me, all right?"

She nodded enthusiastically and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you more," he said, letting her go.

He stood back up and watched her run away happily. "I should go," he said.

Hermione gave him a warm embrace. "I know this is hard for you," she said so only he could hear. "But she's going to be just fine."

Harry was strongly tempted to reply with a "you don't know that," but he refrained, simply nodding his head in response.

He bid them all farewell and headed to the sitting room where he called his sons over before leaving.

"I've decided to let Lily stay the night, as well," he said, looking at them both seriously. "Now, I need you to promise me that you'll look after her. You don't have to stick by her side the whole night, but just…just make sure she's doing okay."

"Sure, Dad. No big deal," James said with a shrug while Al nodded in agreement.

Harry smiled at them. "Don't hesitate to call me about anything," he reminded them, pulling out his mobile. He never used it, but he figured it might come in useful sometime.

He then kissed them both, saying goodbye before stepping into the grate and flooing away.

Harry stood in the empty living room for a moment, breathing in deeply. This was probably the first time he'd be spending the night alone in the house since…well, for a long time. He wasn't quite sure what to do. It was only seven o'clock, so he couldn't very well go to sleep.

Slumping down onto the couch, he turned on the telly and stared at it. He rarely ever watched television. The only reason he had the thing was because Ginny used to love watching muggle films.

Visions of her invaded his mind as he lay his head down on a couch pillow and curled up in a slight fetal position, flipping mindlessly through the channels. But with every programme he passed, his anxiety seemed to grow until he couldn't take it anymore and flipped the off switch, tossing the remote onto the floor.

Rolling over on his back, he stared up at the ceiling. It was so quiet…he couldn't stand it. He always managed to keep himself busy with his children, with his work, with anything just to avoid an opportunity like this. To be completely alone with only his thoughts for company. It was pure agony.

No matter how hard he tried to fool himself into thinking that he was okay, it was moments like these when he knew that he was anything but. Rising from the sofa, he hurried to the front door, throwing on a coat before stepping into the night air and apparating away.

The gates were closed at this time of day, but using a quick  _Alohamora_ , he silently unlocked them before slipping into the graveyard. The air was chilly despite it being mid-April, but he didn't pay it any mind as he slowly made his way over to the headstone.

Harry stood in front of it for a moment, before falling unceremoniously to his knees.

_In Loving Memory of_

_Ginevra Molly Potter_

_August 11, 1981 – November 29, 2006_

_Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,_  
But these are transient all;  
If the shower will make the roses bloom,  
O why lament its fall?

At the time of Ginny's death, Harry hadn't wanted anything to do with funeral preparations, so Hermione had taken it upon herself to have the headstone engraved. He'd never asked her why she'd picked this particular passage, but he couldn't help but wonder at times.

Shaking his head of these thoughts, he conjured up a single white tulip, bringing it up to his lips before resting it against the stone.

"I miss you so much, Ginny," he whispered, tracing the letters of her name lovingly.

There were so many things he wished to say to her, but he just couldn't bring himself to speak. During that first year, he used to come to her grave a lot, but he'd simply sit in front of it silently. How could he allow himself to speak when he knew she would never respond? The very idea caused his heart to constrict.

He would never hear her voice again. Did he even remember what it sounded like?

Harry dropped his head into his hands, emitting a choked sob that seemed to emanate from deep within his chest. "It's not getting any easier," he muttered through gritted teeth. "They said it would get easier…"

He brought his face down to his knees and hugged his legs close, letting silent tears fall freely from his eyes. How long he sat there in that same position, he wasn't sure. Time seemed to stop around him. There was no sound in the empty graveyard aside from his quiet cries and the soft breeze of the night. But in the silence, his thoughts seemed so loud.

"I love you," Harry said, his voice low and scratchy. "And I'll never stop."

He looked up at the headstone, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket and taking in a shuddering breath. He brought his fingers to his lips and then placed them on her name, letting them linger there for a moment.

When he finally stood back up, his whole body seemed to protest. Glancing once more at the epitaph, he sighed heavily. "'Why lament its fall'?" he read aloud. "How can I not…"

Shaking his head, he turned his back and walked away.

When he apparated back to the empty house, he made himself a cup of tea before heading to his study to attempt to get some work done. He was slowly beginning to realise that every Saturday was going to become a very trying affair, indeed. He'd have to figure out some way to spend his time, or he'd probably go mad.

By the time Harry was finished, it was well into the night. He stretched his neck a bit, hearing unpleasant cracking noises before heading upstairs to change. He couldn't help but feel unreasonably saddened as he walked past the children's empty rooms. Lily wouldn't need him to tuck her in or read her a bedtime story or give her kiss. No, not tonight. Tonight he was all alone.

A thought struck his him at that moment that nearly had him reeling.

What would he do when they all left for Hogwarts?

Harry collapsed onto his bed, staring into space with wide eyes. He'd be completely alone…every single day would be just like this. His breath was coming out in short gasps as a feeling of utter abandonment overcame him. He felt like he was suffocating.

He rushed over to open up the window a bit so he could breathe in some fresh air. Was there something wrong with him? Why did the idea of his children going off to school nearly cause him a panic attack?

_They're my whole world,_ he thought desperately.

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, feeling a gentle wind ripple through his hair. It calmed him down a bit, but the fear was still present in his heart.

He stood up, walking past his own bed and heading over to the boys' room. He opened up their window as well, before lifting the covers off Al's bed and sliding in. He felt something hard as his head hit the pillow and reached under it to find the book on dragons that Charlie had given him during his last visit.

Harry smiled fondly, carefully placing the book on the night stand. He then relaxed back into the bed, letting all thoughts of the future fade away as he finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more refreshed than he had in a while. He couldn't remember any of his dreams last night which was always a good thing, in his opinion. And as much as he loved Lily, he couldn't deny that her absence gained him a couple of more hours of sleep.

However, as he went through his morning routine, he quickly realised that he would be willing to take her wake-up calls over his sleep any day.

After he showered and dressed, he headed downstairs and looked at the clock, wondering if it was still too early to call. It was a quarter past nine. He took out his mobile, deciding that he might as well utilise it.

Dialling the number, he impatiently waited to hear James' voice on the other end, but it kept ringing until it reached the voicemail. Harry sighed, wondering if he should just floo-call. He decided against it though, not wanting to appear the 'anxious parent'.

Pouring himself a bowl of cereal, Harry pondered what he could do for the rest of the day until he was to depart to the Burrow for dinner. He was off on Sundays, but he supposed he could head over to his office and get some more work done.

_Nah,_ he thought to himself. Davis would never let him live it down.

Maybe he could visit Ron and Hermione?

As appealing as this idea was, he knew Hermione wasn't going fall back on her promise to have her talk with him. And he wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.

Neville was away at Hogwarts, Luna was out of the country again, who else did that leave? No one, really. At least, no one he could really enjoy spending his time with.

A brief thought entered his mind that almost made him laugh to himself.

"I'd need to be  _really_  lonely for that," he muttered to himself, getting up to wash his bowl.

However, when he sat back down, flipping uninterestedly through a magazine he'd read multiple times before, the thought kept pestering him.

"Bloody hell," Harry exclaimed finally, throwing the magazine down. "Even when she's not around, she's relentless."

Deciding there was literally nothing better to do, and that he might as well get some caffeine in him, Harry, against his better judgement, resolved to take a trip to the café.

He could immediately spot her through the window as he approached. She was talking amicably with someone, as was her custom. Anyone observing her would think being a waitress was the best job in the world. Frankly, he just didn't understand how she could be so cheerful all the time.

The bell tinkled as he pulled open the door, causing her to look up. As was expected, she flashed him one of her brightest smiles and waved.

He nodded his head in return before taking a seat in his usual spot.

Abby came over a few minutes later. "Hey, Harry," she said. "What brings you here on a Sunday?"

He shrugged, not even knowing the answer to this question himself. Quite used to his lack of responses by now, however, she simply pushed on with the conversation.

"And you're wearing jeans!" she exclaimed, gaining odd looks from customers nearby. "I didn't even know you knew what they were."

"I'm full of surprises," he said. "Can I get my coffee now, please?"

Abby raised a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "No," she said.

Harry stared at her. She was trying and failing to hold back a smile, her blue eyes alight with mischief. "And may I ask why not?"

"You're in here on a Sunday, wearing jeans and trainers, with your mobile out in front of you. Not one of those things has ever occurred before," she said as if it were obvious. "Therefore, I can't, in good conscience, allow you to order the same thing you do every day. It just wouldn't be right."

"Well, I certainly can't argue with that logic," he said. "But you do realise that you're supposed to serve the customer, correct?"

"Oh, you're not a customer, Harry," she said, waving him off. "You're more like a friend."

He looked up at her for a moment before shaking his head and letting out a small chuckle. "You're impossible, you are," he said quietly.

She smiled softly at him. "I know."

"Just get me a treacle tart then, I suppose," he said, looking back up at her. "You're allowing me to choose, I hope?"

He noticed a sort of faraway look in her eyes, but she quickly broke out of her stupor at his words. "Yes, excellent choice! I'll have you know that our treacle tart was rated #1 in the  _Daily Mail_."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Which is a complete and utter lie," she said. "But it's still #1 in my book!"

He watched her walk away, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a horrible idea coming here.

* * *

"What's up with you?" Maggie asked.

Abby's head shot up. "What do you mean?" she said in confusion.

"I dunno…you look as if you're trying to solve a really complicated maths equation."

"Oh, no. That's a completely different face, trust me. That looks more like this," she said, forming her features into a look of utter turmoil and loss.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "You're terribly strange, I hope you know that," she said. "And stop doing that with your face."

In response, Abby screwed up her features into a look of devastation. "You told me I was beautiful," she cried, leaning into the girl's personal space.

Maggie scoffed and lightly pushed her away. "Get back to work before Crab-Apple sees you."

Abby dropped her head with a sigh before placing a piece of treacle tart on a plate and heading over to Harry.

"There you are," she said. "I think you'll enjoy this much more than your usual order."

"Cheers," he said, cutting a small piece to try.

She stood there for a moment, waiting for his reaction while he slowly chewed the contents in his mouth. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he was doing this on purpose.

"Well?" she said, not able to take the uncertainty any longer.

"It's good," he said.

She stared him with her eyebrows raised. "Good?  _Good?_  That's all you have to say?"

"Do I really have to go into more detail?"

Abby sighed. "Well, I mean…come on, it's Sunday!" she said.

He gave her strange look. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She tutted loudly. "Sunday Harry is much more articulate than weekday Harry. Sunday Harry wears jeans and trainers," she said, gesturing towards him. "I like Sunday Harry."

"And do you know what I've observed?" he said.

"What?"

"Sunday Abby is just as annoying as weekday Abby," he said. "Now, go see to your other customers before you get sacked."

She couldn't help but smile. "I really hope Sunday Harry stops by again next weekend," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.

Much later that day while Abby was going through the menial task of wiping down tables, she allowed her thoughts to consume her. And every once in a while, a small smile would tug at her lips.

He laughed. Harry laughed today. It was a small laugh, sure, but it was the most wonderful transformation she had ever seen. It made him appear so much younger, so much freer. His deep green eyes twinkled with a light that she'd never seen before. And his smile, however brief it appeared, was a contagious one.

Abby sighed to herself. She wished he could laugh more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt on Ginny's gravestone is from the poem "Life" by Charlotte Bronte. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Harry walked into the Burrow a bit earlier than usual that Sunday afternoon and was greeted by Molly baking what looked to be an apple pie with Dominique, Rose, and Roxy.

"Uncle Harry, look!" Roxy said, patches of flour smattered across her forehead and nose. "I'm helping!"

"Yeah, I can see that," he said, smiling at the sight of her.

Dom gave her younger cousin an exasperated look. "I'd hardly consider this helping. All you're doing is playing with the ingredients."

Roxy stuck her tongue out at the girl when she turned her head away, causing Rose to giggle beside her.

"It's great of you to come early, dear," Molly said, wiping Roxy's face with a dishcloth. "Now you can help us prepare dinner."

Harry shifted his eyes to side. "Er…yeah, sure," he said. "What do you need?"

Molly chuckled. "Oh, I'm only teasing," she said with a wave of her hand. "She's in the shed with Arthur."

He gave her a small smile. "Am I that obvious?"

"No…but I was worried parent once, too," she said, giving him a pointed look. "Always will be."

He nodded in understanding, smiling once more at all of them before heading outside.

When he entered the shed, he spotted the three little firecrackers sitting on crates as they stared up at their granddad in awe. He was showing them what appeared to be a blender that was periodically emitting puffs of coloured smoke.

Molly, Lily, and Hugo were all about the same height with the same flaming red hair. And even though they had drastically different personalities, their energy and liveliness could rival that of a firecracker. Hence the name, of course.

"But what do muggles  _need_ it for?" said Molly, ever the curious one. She was only five, but Harry often marvelled at her level of maturity. She was very much like Percy in that respect.

"Would anyone like to take a guess?" Arthur said, looking around at his small crowd with interest.

Lily's hand shot up immediately. "Is it a pet?"

"I want one!" Hugo said.

"It can't be a pet, it's not alive," Molly said, shaking her said. "Right, Grandad?"

"It's not a pet, no," he said, his voice taking on a theatrical tone as he proceeded to explain to them what a blender's true purpose was. The thought of a machine that chopped and mixed food was enough to inspire even more awe in their faces than before.

Harry made his presence known at that point as he greeted them with a smile.

"Daddy!" Lily said, racing over to him and clinging to his legs as if it had been weeks not hours since she'd last seen him. He knelt down so he could hug her properly, and was rewarded with a bone crushing embrace that almost caused him to topple over.

It felt ridiculously good to hold her close to him. "How are you doing, flower?" he said moving her fringe away from her face. "Did you have fun?"

She nodded with her eyebrows raised and immediately launched into a long tale of everything that happened since yesterday evening. He led her outside after a while, and was more than content to listen to her as they walked through the orchard.

"I wish you were there," she said. "It would've been funner if you were."

"'More fun'," he corrected her. "And I wish I'd been there too, but that's why you have to come. So you can tell me all about it."

Lily smiled brightly at him. He noticed that she hadn't let go of his hand the entire time, which was strange considering she usually liked to walk a bit in front of him and jump over fallen branches or tree stumps.

"I missed you, you know," he said, playfully swinging her arm back and forth.

She looked up at him with big eyes. "Really?"

"Of course," he said. "I had no one to play superheroes with, or to colour with, or to do any of the things we love doing together."

"I don't have to sleepover next week," she said quickly.

Harry smiled gently at her, holding her hands in his as he took a seat against a tree behind him. "But you had fun, Lils. And even though I missed you so so so much, I want you to have fun again," he said.

She still didn't look convinced, and he could sense a tell-tale pout beginning to form.

"And it's okay if we miss each other," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Because you know what?"

"What?" she said, her bottom lip jutting out slightly.

"I'll always be here the very next day for you to tell me all of your stories."

Lily practically fell into his arms, and he was surprised to see a few tears slip down her cheeks. Their short separation had affected her much more than he'd ever imagined, and it saddened him to think about it. Somehow he didn't think Hugo, who was a couple of months younger than her, would respond the same way to Ron or Hermione.

"I love you, flower," he whispered into her ear.

"I love you more, Daddy," she said.

He wiped her face carefully and smiled.

"Now _that_  is just not possible."

* * *

Sunday dinner took place outside that afternoon due to the pleasantly clear skies and fresh spring air. Voices filled the garden as more than a dozen different conversations carried on at once. Talk of work, school, children, sports, government and politics all wrapped up together in a convoluted mass of sound.

Harry didn't mind it though, the noise and the chaos. It made it easier to recede into the background. No one bothered him in the background. There were no questions, no veiled sympathies, no overzealous attempts at conversation. He could just sit and enjoy his dinner while observing the scene around him. An occasional head nod or interjection was enough to convince anyone paying attention that he was perfectly all right.

He found it almost funny, in dark sort of way. Ginny would have been able to see straight through his façade as if it were transparent.

Harry sighed, cutting his steak with extra vigour. He'd been thinking about her even more than usual since the other night.

"What did that poor piece of meat ever do to you, Harry?" Bill asked from across the table.

He looked up with an easy smile. "Looked at me the wrong way," he said.

Bill chuckled in response and then turned to reply to something Fleur had said.

Harry's smile immediately dropped.

He would sometimes wonder, in his darker moments, how everyone around him could continue living as if nothing was wrong with the world, as if nothing was amiss. How could the vacant spot at the table not cause them such earth-shattering distress as it did him? Did they not notice how the hum of voices fell dismally flat without her melodic laughter?

He knew that they all felt the pain. There was no doubt in that. But their pain was not as constant and unrelenting as his. Because even when she was alive, she was not a part of their everyday life. Perhaps they could still have normal days where they could simply forget.

But he could never forget. He was the one who woke up next to her every morning and fell asleep with her every night. He was the one who had to feel her loss every waking moment. It was like missing a limb from his body except a thousand times worse. So, so much worse.

Harry's hand shook slightly as he put his fork down. His appetite was long gone now.

But he was grateful for Sunday dinners. No one could spare enough attention to notice that he hardly ever touched his food.

* * *

"I want you both showered and in bed by nine-thirty," Harry called as the boys raced up the stairs.

He walked into his room, and Lily followed after him, jumping onto the bed and settling herself comfortably underneath the sheets.

"Don't think you're getting out of your bath tonight," he said as he slipped his shoes and socks off.

She snuggled further beneath the covers and began emitting loud, fake snores.

"Do you want pygmy puff pyjamas or…nothing, apparently," Harry said, rifling through the small pile of clean laundry with a frown.

"Nothing," Lily said with a muffled giggle.

He looked up at her and smiled. "You think you're cute, but you're really not," he said, walking over to her and pulling the covers back.

"I'm the cutest," she said, giving him a small glare.

Harry pretended to consider this for a moment. "Nah, I'm definitely cuter," he said, causing Lily to let out a long peal of laughter.

"I don't understand what's so funny…"

"You're silly, Daddy," she said after her giggles finally subsided.

At that moment, Albus rushed in and jumped onto the bed, as well. Lily bounced up and down slightly from the added weight, causing a fresh bout of giggles.

"What did I miss?" he said, crossing his ankles and leaning back against the pillows casually.

Harry let out a dramatic sigh. "Great…another one."

"Your favourite one," Al said causing Lily to stick her tongue out at him.

"Well, considering James is the only one doing as I asked at the moment, he's got both of you beat," Harry said.

"No fair, he took the shower first!" Al said.

"And he didn't have to put up very much of a fight, now did he?"

Al shrugged. "That's neither here nor there," he said in a voice that sounded oddly like George's.

Harry shook his head, trying and failing to hold back a smile. "Both of you just think you're  _so_  clever," he said, walking towards them.

He then dropped Lily's pygmy pyjamas before jumping onto the bed and tickling them until they shrieked in protest.

"No…Dad...stop!" Al spluttered out amidst his giggles.

" _Daddy!_ "

He blew a raspberry into both their necks causing them to practically heave with laughter.

"Dad!" Al shouted sternly this time as if reprimanding a small child. The effect was lost however, as tears of laughter threatened to spill from his eyes.

Finally having pity, Harry ceased the attack and settled himself on the bed in between them as they both attempted to catch their breaths.

"That wasn't very nice," Al said matter-of-factly, resting his head on Harry's shoulder in exhaustion.

"Who said I had to be nice?"

"Society," he said.

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "Where on earth do you learn these words from?" he said.

"Daddy, what's a sy-tee?" Lily said, looking up at him curiously.

He leaned back against the headboard, running his fingers through her hair. "It's like a big group of people who tells everyone what to do," he said.

"Oh."

A small bout of silence followed, both children content to simply cuddle into Harry's side.

As he lay there, though, he couldn't get the thought out of his mind that Ginny would have loved a moment like this. When Al was younger, he would always try and sneak into their bed during the night and Harry, being the pushover he was, would convince her to let him stay. It never did take much convincing. Sometimes James would wake up and notice that his brother was missing, and then quickly follow him into their bed, as well.

She always pretended to be cross with the three of them, but Harry knew better. Ginny loved those moments just as much as he did.

He let out a long breath as he stared up at the ceiling. But when he looked back down at the two small bodies snuggled into his sides, the pain in his chest dulled just enough to make it bearable.

"I love you both," he said, kissing their heads and squeezing them closer to him. "More than anything."

* * *

Harry pulled open the tinkling door of the café and headed over to his usual seat by the window. Today had been a chaotic morning, as Mondays usually went. Lily had been adamant about wanting her hair plaited, which of course he could no sooner do than fly without a broom. James had used accidental magic to lock Al in the loo, and it had taken Harry more tries than he cared to admit to undo the charm. His morning classes were filled with pestering students coming to him with questions about their essays. He didn't mind questions, he just wished they didn't have to attack all at once. All in all, his break couldn't come sooner, and he collapsed in the chair, more than ready for a spot of caffeine to replenish his system.

He looked up and saw Abby taking down an order from a customer in the back. He watched her for a few minutes as she went about her duties, and he couldn't help but notice that there was something off about her today. He wasn't sure what it was. She seemed a bit frazzled. Her hair was pulled up messily and it kept falling into her eyes, and her smiles and nods were quick and insubstantial.

He saw her make her way over to him with a mug of coffee.

"Enjoy," she said, placing it in front of him with a small upturn of her lips.

To say he was surprised when she left without another word would be a serious understatement. Just yesterday morning she'd been her usual perky self, chatting his ears off and niggling her way into his business.

Harry shook his head of these thoughts. Perhaps she was just having a bad day. Even the queen of cheer was allowed to have bad days once in a while.

But as the week trickled on, Abby's strange behaviour continued. It was as if her mind was constantly elsewhere. She would mix up orders, or sometimes forget them all together. Twice she'd received an earful from her boss. And it unnerved him, to say the least.

"Wait."

She stopped in her tracks.

It was Friday. A whole week had gone by, and Harry simply couldn't take it anymore.

Abby turned around and walked back toward him. "Did you want something else?" she said, looking confused.

He stared into her eyes, searching for the spark they usually held, but there was nothing there.

"Have I done something?" Harry said. "Have I upset you in some way?"

He knew it most likely had nothing to do with him considering she'd been strange with everyone, but he still couldn't help but ask.

"What?" she said, looking taken aback. "No."

"Then what is it? There's obviously something wrong," he said.

Abby gave him a bright smile. "It's nothing, Harry. I'm fine," she said with a shrug.

She was good, he had to admit, but Harry knew enough about empty smiles to see straight through hers. She was about to walk away when he stopped her once again.

"But you're not really," he said.

Abby stared at him with a defiant sort of expression, as if she couldn't believe he had the nerve to contradict her. Harry was surprised to see her blue eyes turn glassy, and she looked as if she was about to cry.

"Abby—"

"Don't," she said, holding up a hand. "I'm not crying—shut up—I'm not—just…God, look away, will you!"

She wiped her eyes in annoyance and glared at him as if it were his fault.

Harry's mouth opened slightly in response.

"What's it to you, anyway?" she blurted out. "I thought you'd be overjoyed by the fact that I'd left you alone."

"Well, I am," he said, shifting his eyes away from her. "I just...I'm also concerned."

She let out a small laugh. "Right."

"I'm serious," he said, glancing back up at her. "Look...I know I'm going to regret this, but…if you wanted to talk about it - whatever it is - I suppose...I could listen."

Abby raised her eyebrows in surprise. Then out of nowhere, another laugh erupted from her lips, this time continuing on for longer than should be polite.

Harry figured he should be offended, but the sound of her laughter actually came as a bit of relief. It felt right, somehow. And Merlin was it better than those empty smiles.

"I'm here all night," he said, folding his hands in lap.

"Sorry," she muttered, covering her mouth to stop any further laughs from escaping.

She gave him a small smile, and he nodded his head in return.

"I meant it, you know," Harry said. "As ridiculous as it sounds."

Abby brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly looking a bit embarrassed. "Thank you," she said.

He shrugged. "What are friends for?"

 _There's that spark,_ he thought, staring into her now shining blue eyes.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Harry had woken up feeling the same emptiness he had last weekend. Despite Lily's obvious hesitation to spend the night away from him again, he'd managed to convince her with comforting words and a steadfast promise that he'd see her the very next day. He'd brought it on himself, really, so he couldn't very well complain. But that didn't stop the boredom from seeping into him as he sat down that morning, eating cereal and numbingly watching the muggle news.

God, he hated the news.

He sighed loudly, throwing his head back against the couch. "Might as well," he muttered to himself, turning off the telly before exiting the house. He apparated a street down from the cafe and walked the rest of the short distance.

When he entered the shop, he stayed by the door for a moment, leaning back against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You look like a creep," Abby said as she made her way over to him.

"I'm just deciding where to sit," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Is this you trying to make a joke?" she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Cause I can never be sure."

"It's Sunday," Harry said. "I just assumed I should sit somewhere different."

Abby cracked a small smile before bursting out into laughter. "Well, can I interest you in a tour?" she said. "I know how hard this decision can be, but with time, I believe we can supply you with just the right table to help you fulfil your greatest potential."

"You're weird," he said, brushing past her to sit down at the one nearest the door.

She wiped fake tears from her eyes. "Wow that—that really means a lot, thank you."

He leaned back and crossed his legs, staring up at her with a calculating expression. "You seem more Abby-like today," he said.

She let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, well…time keeps ticking whether you're happy or sad. Might as well be happy, right?"

Harry nodded slowly as he considered those words.

"And anyway, Crap-Apple would have sacked me if I didn't get my act together soon."

"Crab-Apple?" he said.

"My boss, Ms. Appleton," she said.

"Of course."

An awkward silence then fell between them for a moment.

"Erm...would you like a menu?" Abby said.

"You've got those?"

She frowned. "Not all the customers order the same thing every day, Harry."

He stared at her. "Yes, that was a joke."

"Oh...right," she said with a smile. "Well, I'll just go grab one, then."

"Abby," he called before she could turn away.

"Yes?"

Harry sat up a bit straighter in his chair and levelled her with a serious look. "I know you seem fine," he said. "But just in case you're a really good actress…the offer still stands. I can't promise I'll help you in any way, but I figure it's worth a try."

She seemed to be thinking very hard about his words.

"Why, though?" she asked finally, confusion written on her face.

Harry let out a small sniff of amusement. "I have absolutely no idea."

Abby opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped and shook her head. She opened it slightly once more, but then closed it again.

"Just spit it out," he said.

She glanced down at her fingers, as if observing them very carefully. "I get off work at noon. Sometimes I like to sit on those benches that overlook the Thames. It's sort of relaxing, you know. Especially when you can find a quiet spot," she said, still not looking at him. "Maybe…maybe you can join me."

"All right," he said.

Her head shot up in surprise. "What, you mean that?"

"Unfortunately."

Abby shook her head as a laugh escaped her lips. "And he claims that I'm the strange one."

* * *

It was 11:55. A part of her was very confident in the fact that he wouldn't show. Why on earth would he? Why would someone who barely even knew her care enough to want to listen? It was a ridiculous notion even to her own ears.

But were they really such strangers to each other? There were times when she felt as if she'd known him for years, not months. He was a man of very few words, obviously, yet he still exuded a presence that she couldn't help but feel comforted by.

He was strange, yes. But she was probably stranger. He was quiet, but she made up for it in loudness. Above all else, though, he was honest. Sometimes even brutally so. And perhaps it was this honesty, more than anything else that comforted her.

The bell on the door jingled at 11:59.

There he was. Jeans, trainers, and black t-shirt, looking nothing and everything like the man she'd spilled coffee on nearly three months ago.

His piercing green eyes met hers, and she smiled at him, attempting to convey without words just how much it meant to her that he had showed.

After wiping down her last table, she pulled off her apron and hung it behind the counter.

"Am I a horrible person for thinking you weren't going to come?" she asked as they both walked out the door.

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "No."

"Good," she said with a grin. "Well it's not too far of walk, as you probably know. Would you prefer awkward silence, comfortable silence, or heavy silence?"

"Heavy sounds intriguing," he said.

"Oh, it is, trust me," she said. "We'll begin…now."

They walked a couple of roads down to the Thames in their heavy silence which was only interrupted by the sounds of cars and passers-by. When they finally reached the river, Abby chose a bench far away from the hustle and bustle of the main road.

"Did you enjoy that?" she said, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Immensely," Harry said.

Abby chuckled softly as she turned to face the river in front of her. "Do you want to know a secret?" she said, playing with her necklace. "You told me that if I wanted to talk, you would listen. But the thing is…I don't know if I want to. I don't even know where I'd begin."

Her words were met with silence.

"And now you're probably thinking to yourself, 'why on earth did this lunatic drag me along with her if not to blabber on about her life's woes to me while I pretend to care?'" she said.

"Strange...you took the words right out of my mouth," Harry said.

"But that's just it, isn't it?" she continued, ignoring him. "You're pretending to care, or maybe you really do care, or maybe you don't. Whatever the case, it doesn't matter. Because you're here  _now_. And that means more to me than you'll ever know."

She turned to face him, her forehead creased in thought. "Maybe I don't want to talk, Harry. Maybe I just…I just want someone to sit with me on this bench and stare at the water," she said.

Harry looked in her the eye, all traces of sarcasm gone.

"Maybe I want the same thing," he said, in a voice so bare, she felt as if she were invading his personal privacy just to be able to hear it.


	7. Chapter 7

"We're here!" Harry called out loudly as he stumbled out of the fireplace after James and Al.

Hermione entered the sitting room with a happy smile on her face as Rose and Hugo rushed in from behind her. She immediately swooped down to envelop her niece and nephews and plant kisses on each of their cheeks, making the boys squirm away in protest.

"Mum, can we go play outside?" Rose said.

"If it's okay with your Uncle Harry," she said.

"Uncle Harry, can we go play outside?" Rose said, turning to face him with anticipation in her eyes.

"I don't think I could say no even if I wanted to," he said.

The girl beamed as she grabbed her cousins' hands and dragged them out of the room.

"Make sure you keep an eye on Hugo and Lily at all times!" Hermione called after her.

"Ron's not home yet?" Harry asked, making himself comfortable on the sofa.

"No, Friday is inventory day," she said, taking a seat next to him. "He should be home soon, though. I know you only came for him."

Harry threw a pillow at her, causing her to yelp in protest.

"I was only joking," she said with a huff, tossing it back at him.

He easily deflected it much to her irritation.

"So, how's work?" she asked, propping her elbow on the back of the couch as she stared at him intently.

Unlike most people, he knew that when Hermione asked mundane questions such as this, she actually expected a meaningful answer. A simple 'fine, how about you' would simply never cut it.

"Fine, how about you?"

It was still fun to irritate her though.

Hermione pursed her lips in a very unamused manner. "Be serious, Harry! We haven't had the chance to talk in ages."

"All right, all right," he said, holding his hands up. "I don't know…there's nothing new, really. I'm still enjoying the training."

"Do you miss the field work at all?"

He didn't respond right away, taking a moment to think as he gazed at his fingers. Did he miss it? Sure. Did he miss it enough to face whatever consequences could occur because of it? Never.

"Sometimes," he said with a shrug. "But there's no use in dwelling on it."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Perhaps one day…in future?" she said.

He exhaled heavily. "I doubt even then. They'll always be my children, Hermione. And no matter how small the possibility of something happening to me, I could never put them through that," he said, shaking his head at the mere idea.

It was simply too much of a risk. He used to be in and out of hospital countless times during his first couple of years on the job. Twice he'd had a near death experience. The thought of dying and leaving his kids all alone in the world was just too terrible to bear.

"I suppose it was naïve to think that things would die down completely after the war," Hermione mused. "I mean I knew being an auror was dangerous, but I never imagined it would be this hard."

Harry gave a humourless chuckle. "Well, it isn't…not really."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean? You had your fair share of injuries, if I remember correctly."

"I did, yeah. But it wasn't so much the job as it was...well, being me," he said. "The name 'Harry Potter' stands for something, doesn't it? When I'm out there in the field or on a mission—all the criminals, thugs, crooks, they swarm at me like they've got something to prove."

A deep frown formed on Hermione's face as she contemplated his words. "So they attack you more than the other aurors just because of who you are?" she said quietly. "That's cruel…"

He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned his head back. "Yeah well, they're not exactly model human beings to begin with, are they."

"Why have you never told me this before?"

Harry looked at her with one eyebrow raised. "Do you really need to ask?"

Her forehead creased in thought as she stared at him. "You'd still be out there now, if things had been different, wouldn't you?" she said, clearly knowing the answer. "And you never told Ginny about this, either. Because she worried enough about you to begin with. You wanted to protect us."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he said with a nod.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "You're an idiot."

"Oh, cheers," he said.

"You were always hiding things and keeping us all in the dark," she said, ignoring him. "Don't you think we wondered why you'd come home from missions all banged up when the rest of your team was fine? I used to think they'd just give you more dangerous tasks because of who you were."

Harry didn't respond, but apparently the look on his face was enough to confirm her suspicions.

"They did that, as well, didn't they?" she said, shaking her head. "God, Harry. Why did you never tell us?"

He rolled his eyes, starting to get a little frustrated. "What good would that have done?"

"No good at all, probably, but at least you wouldn't have to suffer silently like you always do," Hermione said loudly. "If anything, you should have told Ginny—"

"Don't you dare bring her into this, right now," Harry said, boring his eyes into hers.

Hermione stared back at him in defiance. "I have to," she said, with a bit of heat in her voice. "Ginny was the one person who could get you to talk, but you still kept things from her. When are you going to realise that you don't always have to protect everyone? Enough is enough, Harry. You've done your duty!"

He stood up at once, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace for lack of anything better to do. His insides were seething, but he forced himself to calm down.

"Apparently I'm the only person who can talk to you about this," Hermione said, following him with her eyes. "Do you know why? Because everyone else is afraid."

"Afraid of what, exactly?" he said in a sharp tone.

"Of you…of hurting you."

He turned to look at her mid-pace, setting his face in scowl. "And you're not?"

She exhaled heavily and slumped her shoulders. "Of course I am," she said. "But I'm more afraid of you hurting yourself."

Her voice broke slightly at the end of her sentence, and she quickly turned her head away.

Harry's anger vanished in an instant, and he walked over to her slowly and sat down.

Hermione immediately latched her arms around his neck and hugged him close. "I love you so much," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I just want you to be happy, that's all I've ever wanted. You deserve it more than anyone."

He didn't respond, but just let her continue to embrace him. What did it matter what he deserved? Life still gave him whatever the hell it wanted, anyway.

"I'm sorry for being a bit abrasive before," Hermione said, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

"Likewise."

"But I'd rather you yell and scream than hold it all in," she said. "Please, Harry…just promise me you'll try. Talk to me, talk to anyone. Just talk. Please."

He leaned back and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'll try, okay," he said, wanting to appease her. "I just honestly don't see the point. There is nothing in this world that could fix this or make it go away. Do you know how suffocating that is? It's like drowning. But instead of passing out, I'm just stuck there, forever trying to catch my breath."

"And sometimes I wish I could just…" he trailed off, dropping his head into his hands and breathing in deeply.

"But you wouldn't," Hermione said barely above a whisper as she placed a gentle hand on his back. "You would never do that to them."

Harry shut his eyes tight.

"You know I—I've always been prepared to die for the ones I love," he said with a slight rasp in his voice. "But now I have to live for them…and I never realised that could be just as hard."

* * *

Ron arrived home just in time for dinner, his appearance looking haggard as he greeted Hermione with a mere head nod. Upon seeing Harry enter the kitchen, however, his whole countenance immediately brightened up as he walked over to engulf him in a warm hug which Harry reciprocated in full.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Should I leave you two alone?" she said.

"I forgot you were coming today," Ron said, paying her no mind. "How long have you been here?"

"About an hour now, I think," Harry taking taking a seat at the table.

"Shame, that. Did Hermione bore you to tears with her talk about recent legislation and the upcoming Wizengamot elections and blah blah blah—"

He cut off abruptly at the look on her face, throwing her a cheeky smile and swooping down to give her a kiss which she immediately deflected.

"It was a joke," Ron said with grin, attempting to kiss her again.

"Just because you can't take the time to understand what I do, doesn't make it boring. It just makes you thick," Hermione said, folding her arms and lifting her chin up a bit.

Harry looked away, knowing their little flirtatious banter would escalate and ultimately end in a modest, yet very public display of affection. And it really never got any less weird to see the two of them together.

"Where are the sprogs?" Ron asked, after they were mercifully done with that episode.

"Playing outside. Go call them in for dinner, will you?" Hermione said, using her wand to set the table. "And make sure they wash up."

"Do you want me to do anything?" Harry offered.

"Just sit there and look pretty, you're ace at that," Ron said, stumbling over the foot that Harry casually placed in his path.

The kids all tumbled in through the back door not long after, following Ron into the loo. "One at a time, you lot! The food's not going to disappear," he said loudly over their shouts.

He came back in soon after, carrying Lily and Hugo across his shoulders like sacks of potatoes. "Where do you want me to toss these?" Ron said, causing them to let out a peal of giggles.

"Ronald Weasley, I specifically told you not to buy the laughing potatoes again!" Hermione said, hands on her hips. "Very well, just throw them in the corner."

"No!" they both shrieked amidst their laughter as Lily started pounding on Ron's back to release them. She then shoved her foot clean into his gut, causing him to wince and quickly let them down.

Lily raced to Harry's side at once, but he was too busy guffawing loudly at Ron's plight. "Did my four-year-old daughter just beat you up, mate?" he said, earning a very unamused look. "That's my girl."

He looked down at Lily proudly, hugging her to his side as she grinned at him.

"All Potters are demons," Ron said, taking a seat.

"Thanks, Uncle Ron!" James said, appearing out of nowhere and clapping the man on the back.

"All right, all right, tuck in, everyone," Hermione said once they were all seated.

The children and Ron instantly dug in with gusto. Hermione's culinary abilities were actually very good considering she had to compete with the likes of Molly Weasley. Which was lucky, of course, since Ron couldn't cook for shite.

If Hermione was ever busy at work or away at a conference, Molly usually stepped in to make sure the kids wouldn't starve. On one occasion, Ron had even begged Harry to pop in so he could show him how to use a toaster.

He never let him live that one down, obviously.

"So, what did you all do outside?" Hermione asked the kids. "You definitely built up an appetite."

"We played Aurors and Death Eaters," Rose said, grabbing another chicken leg.

Harry frowned. "I despise that name. Why do you have to call it that?"

"Everyone calls it that," Al said with a shrug.

"I was a Death Eater, Daddy," Lily said.

"Oh, lovely," Harry said.

James gave him an apologetic look. "Well I mean, at least we played this version…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What other version is there?"

"Well…some people play with a Voldemort and a—well a Harry Potter," James said, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Ron choked on his gulp of water and started coughing rather loudly. "Bloody hell," he wheezed out, causing Hermione to hiss at him about language.

Harry remained silent, however, not quite sure how to take this information. It didn't exactly surprise him, if he were being honest. Wizarding society was prone to its stupidity as he'd witnessed over the years. Ever since the final battle, Harry had been overly romanticized as the hero of the wizarding world. There'd been books, action figures, clothing lines. All of it had become so commercialized that it made him sick to his stomach sometimes just to walk down places like Diagon Alley.

But to create a game where a child actually played the role of Voldemort…Merlin, that had to be crossing some sort of line. This was a sadistic, racist, murdering psychopath that destroyed the lives of countless people, not just some evil character in a story.

Voldemort was being romanticized, as well. He was the ideal villain. And this was what bothered Harry more than anything.

"Dad?" James said in an uncertain voice.

Harry exhaled heavily. "Call it something else…please," he said in a quiet but stern voice that left no room for argument. "The war wasn't a game. It was a terrible event that cost many good people their lives. Do you all understand that? Because I need you to understand."

They all nodded silently.

"Sorry, Uncle Harry," Rose said, a look of guilt crossing her features.

"Hey," he said, causing her to glance up. He gave her a small smile. "You have nothing to apologise for, all right?"

She nodded, smiling at him in return.

"We used to call it cops and robbers when I was in school," Hermione said, earning a grateful look from Harry. "You can change it to aurors and robbers, I suppose. Or aurors and thieves…you're a clever bunch, I'm sure you'll think of something."

Excited banter quickly erupted in the room, once more as the kids all tossed out new ideas, each getting more and more ridiculous as time went on. Anything would do, really. If Harry never heard the words 'Voldemort' and 'Death Eater' again, it would be too soon.

* * *

"Hey."

Harry looked up to see Abby sitting across from him.

"Boss not here today?" he said.

She shook her head, taking his newspaper in her hands and rifling through it.

"Oh sure, you can have that."

"I just want the crossword, don't get your knickers in a twist," she said. "You can go back to reading all about the HSBC moving its headquarters from London in a second."

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "I wasn't reading that article, thank you very much," he said.

"There we are!" she said, pulling out the page she was looking for.

"Brilliant, now leave me alone," he said, taking the paper back.

Abby was about to walk away when she turned back suddenly as if just remembering something.

"What?" Harry said, without looking up.

"Are you doing anything later?"

"Why?"

"Because it's a beautiful day outside and I think it would be a good step in our friendship if we took advantage of it together."

"Where?"

"Wherever you want. There's a nice park not too far from here."

"Which?"

"I don't know what it's called."

"When?"

"Noon."

"Who?"

"Abby and Harry."

"How?"

"Flying carpet, obviously."

Harry set his paper down and looked at her. "I thought those were banned recently in Britain?" he said, with his eyebrow furrowed.

Abby stared at him in confusion. "What was?"

"Flying carpets," he said.

She stared at him again. "You really have the most bizarre sense of humour sometimes, you know that?" she said, shaking her head. "Anyway, will you join me?"

Harry considered her request for a moment. "Yeah, all right."

Abby seemed surprised by his quick acceptance, but she smiled warmly, nonetheless. "Brilliant," she said.

He watched her walk away, wondering why in Merlin's name he had just agreed to this outing. He was by no means a social person. Quite the opposite, in fact. He didn't much enjoy meeting new people or spending time with them. Before Abby had started working here, he'd gone months without ever conversing with anyone in the shop, and he'd been perfectly content to do so.

So, what was so different about her?

_Well, she's bothersome, obnoxious, and she doesn't leave me alone, for one._

Then again, he'd met plenty of people with those qualities before, and he tended to avoid them like the plague. Was that really it? No, there had to be something more.

Harry gazed at her as she went about her tasks. She seemed perfectly ordinary from a distance. And nobody observing her from afar would ever suspect her of being a bit mad.

He let out a sniff of amusement at the thought.

Yeah, she was barmy, all right. But she was funny, too. And bright and happy and kind.

And if he was being completely honest with himself…yes, he enjoyed spending time with her. It sounded mad even in his own head, but it was true.

Here was a girl who knew absolutely nothing about him, nothing about his past or present. All she knew was Harry. And even though he loved Ron and Hermione with all his heart, he could never be just Harry to them. To the entire wizarding world he was always something else. He was Harry the Boy-Who-Lived, the orphan, the Chosen One, the hero, and now the widower…

Sometimes, though, he just wanted to forget. He wanted to be someone else, someone normal.

Maybe he could be that someone with her.

* * *

"What do you think?" Abby said, turning to face him.

"Looks like a park," Harry said.

"Excellent! Come on, I nicked some stale rolls from work to feed the ducks," she said with a sly smile, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the large pond.

She handed him a few and then proceeded to break apart the rolls and scatter them on the ground.

"You know, I read somewhere that feeding them too much bread can be dangerous," Harry said, breaking his apart, as well. "Something about lack of nutritional value or whatever."

"Moderation is key," Abby said, looking at him over her shoulder. "It's sort of like sweets, like feeding them little chocolate bars. So, don't go ruining their fun. Ducks are allowed to splurge every once in a while, too."

"Far be it from me to intrude," he said.

Once they were finished, Harry and Abby sat on the bench and proceeded to observe the ducks excitedly nipping apart all the little bread pieces.

"Thanks for coming," Abby said, turning to face him with a smile.

Harry shrugged. "Thanks for inviting me."

They sat in silence for a long moment, both gazing at the feeding session in front of them. And then:

"What's your surname?"

He jerked his head toward her in surprise. "Why?" he said, his eyebrows furrowed.

She was a muggle, of course. She had to be…there was no way she knew who he was.

"I need a reason to ask?" she said with a laugh. "Fine, then. Because we're friends."

Harry looked at her in confusion. "I'm not sure I'm understanding your logic," he said.

Abby chuckled. "Harry…I barely know anything about you. And that's perfectly all right, but—well I mean—we have known each other for quite a while now, haven't we? I think I deserve at least a surname."

"Unless you're, you know, running from the law or something. You're not a criminal, are you?" she added.

"No, I'm not a criminal," he said.

"Go on, then," she said. "I know you like your privacy, but…I promise I won't order a background check on you or anything."

Harry shook his head in amusement. "It's Potter."

He watched as her eyes widened in delight.

"What?" he said, worried she'd recognised it somehow.

"Well...I know your name, now," she said with a grin. "Harry Potter…it sounds right. Perfect, even."

Harry stared at her, trying to figure out what in the world was going on through her mind. "What's so fascinating about that?"

"Don't you get it, Harry? You shared something with me, something personal. It's  _your_ name and your name alone. Do you not find that fascinating?" she said.

"Not really," he said.

Abby sighed, leaning back against the bench. "Well, I certainly do. Call me bonkers if you like. And to repay the favour: my name is Abigail—"

"Waters," he said.

She looked up at him in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"You told me that day you nearly burned a hole through my chest," Harry said.

"Oh, right," she said with a small wince. "Hold on...do you mean to tell me that you remember from all those months ago?"

"No, actually. Your boss just always shouts your name out, I'd have to be deaf not to know it by now," Harry said, causing her to break out in giggles and shove him in the shoulder.

"What?" he said.

She leaned her elbow on the back of the bench as she turned to face him, resting her head casually in her hand. "You're a funny one, aren't you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "That's really weird hearing you call me that, you know," he said.

"Why, does it make you feel old?" she said with a teasing voice.

He scratched his neck as he looked away from her. "Er, no. It just…doesn't seem right," he said.

In truth, it just reminded him of the whole other life he lived that she had no clue even existed. He was 'Mr. Potter' to the wizarding public. And if felt weird to hear her address him that way.

"Well, don't worry. I like 'Harry' better, anyway," she said. "But speaking of..."

"Twenty-nine," he said.

"Blimey, am I that obvious?"

"A bit, yeah."

Abby gazed at him thoughtfully. "Twenty-nine, eh?" she said. "So young…"

"Not that young," he said with one eyebrow raised.

She stared at him for a moment in a way that made it seem as if he were being studied.

"What?" he said, starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way or anything, Harry, but…there's just something about you that doesn't look twenty-nine," she said. She reached out a hand as if to touch his face, but then quickly withdrew it. "I think it's your eyes."

"My eyes?" he said.

"Yeah…your face is young, but your eyes—I mean, they're very lovely—but they're not twenty-nine," she told him in a somewhat hesitant voice. "They seem…they seem older."

To say Harry was shocked would be an understatement. It wasn't exactly the words that shocked him, though. It was the fact that she, herself, had said them. He knew he'd been hardened to a certain degree by the events in his life. There was really no way of escaping that. She, however, knew nothing of him but the person sitting in front of her.

"I'm really sorry," she said suddenly, cutting off his train of thought. "That was right rude of me to say."

"No, it's fine," he said, shifting his gaze away from her.

Abby exhaled heavily and turned to stare at the pond, instead.

"What is it?" he said, sensing something was wrong.

She didn't respond right away, but he could tell she was trying to work up a proper answer.

"Harry, when I first met you…"

"What?" he said, again.

She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Well, the truth is you seemed sad," she said. "You seemed really sad and…and lonely. And I suppose I never thought about it much before, but I realise now that it's because your eyes seem sad and lonely. And when I look into them, I just...I see someone who is so much older than twenty-nine. And that just makes me wonder, you know. What could have possibly occurred to…to— _God_ , I'm sorry, this is none of my business. I'm so sorry."

She stood up abruptly and turned her back on him as she walked toward the pond, crossing her arms against her chest and shaking her head.

Harry stared numbingly at her profile for a moment, not truly grasping what had just occurred or perhaps, just not wanting to.

"I should go," he said in a low voice, causing her to whip around.

"You're angry," she said, walking over to him. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm obnoxious and nosy and too curious for my own good, and if you never want to speak to me again, I would completely understand."

"Just…just calm down, will you?" he said, holding up his hands.

"Okay," she said quietly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and breathed out slowly. "I'm not angry," he said. "There are just some things I would rather not talk about. Not now, anyway."

She stared at him.

"There's a lot that you don't know about me," he said, his voice growing weary. "Things I can't even begin to explain. But if you told me the first time we met that I would one day voluntarily spend a day out in the park with you, I would have called you barking mad. Yet, here we are. So who knows? Maybe one day…maybe one day we could learn things about each other."

Abby nodded. "I'd like that," she said.

Harry gave her small smile. "I think I would, too," he said, causing her to grin.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" she said.

"S'pose so," he said with a nod. "Hey, Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"How old are you, then?"

She smirked. "Haven't you ever heard that it's rude to ask a lady her age?" she said, making him roll his eyes. "I'm twenty-four."

He gazed at her with his head turned slightly to the side and gave a small sniff of amusement.

"What?" she said.

"It's funny, your eyes don't seem twenty-four."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you mocking me?"

Harry chuckled. "They just look so much younger. More like an eight-year-old's, to be honest."

Abby let out a loud snort that quickly dissolved into laughter. "That's fair," she said. "Sad, but fair."

"Not necessarily a bad thing," he said with a shrug.

She looked up into his eyes for a moment and smiled. "Maybe you can grow young with me, then?"


	8. Chapter 8

Abby stared at the card in her hands blankly, the words becoming a blur as her eyes grew unfocused. She didn't know why she kept reading it over; it wasn't as if it would change. Yet there she sat at the kitchen table, unwilling to stuff the blasted paper in a faraway corner in the deep recesses of some forgotten drawer.

The sound of her flatmate clomping into the kitchen caused her to quickly cover up the card with the morning paper. She didn't wish to entertain any questions.

"Mornin'," Clara said with a yawn, grabbing the marmalade from the fridge and eating straight out of the jar.

Abby was just thankful she was actually using a spoon.

"You're up early," she said.

Clara shrugged. "Figured I might go job hunting today."

Abby perked up at this. "Really? Well, good on you! I'm sure you'll find something," she said. "You have a charismatic personality, great social skills, and your work ethic is…well…you can sugar coat that one a bit. Or just flat out lie, really."

"Well gee, Abs, don't hold back," Clara said.

Abby sighed, suddenly getting serious. "Look, I hate to be  _that_ person, but…we do need the money, Clara. I'm already working seven days a week for more hours than I care to admit. I know it's only been a fortnight since you were laid off, but I need your help."

"I know, all right. You can quit talking my ear off about it," the girl said looking slightly miffed.

"I don't mean to sound harsh," Abby said in gentle voice.

"Whatever," Clara said. "Maybe I'll just become a streetwalker. It's not as if I have any other skills."

Abby pursed her lips. "That's not funny, don't even joke about it."

Clara shrugged, a mildly amused look plastered on her face. "Well, you can take the girl out of Essex, but you can't take Essex out of the girl."

"Oh, don't start with that rubbish," Abby said in annoyance. "I'll have you know that I've met plenty of hard-working girls from Essex with proper careers."

Clara snorted. "That'd be a sight..."

Abby rolled her eyes and stood up to leave. There was no point in continuing this argument. "I'm going to work. Try your best today, all right?  _Please_ ," she said.

"Yeah, yeah," the girl said, waving her off.

The rest of the morning trickled by much too slowly for Abby's liking. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she was a person who was very easily entertained. At the moment, however, she went through her tasks with a numbing sort of familiarity that left her senselessly bored.

Glancing up at the clock for the umpteenth time, she willed it to move a bit faster. And at twelve o'clock on the dot, a small bit of excitement shot through her as she waited impatiently for the shop door to open.

Finally, at five minutes past, she spotted a black mess of hair through the window.

"Hiya," Abby said as soon as he stepped inside.

Harry nodded at her in acknowledgement and took a seat. "All right?"

"Peachy," she said, pouring him some coffee. "You?"

"Fantastic," he said in that tone of his that made everything sound ironic.

She chuckled softly.

"What?" he asked, glancing up at her.

"Just wondering if you'll ever respond with genuine pleasantness, is all," she said.

He gave her a look, but didn't say anything.

"So tell me, Harry," Abby said, sitting down and throwing her legs up on a nearby chair. "What exactly do you do for a living that requires you to dress like a stiff every day?"

He glanced down at his clothes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing," she said. "You look very smart and dapper. I'm only curious."

Harry leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, giving her a look of appraisal. "That's classified information," he said, looking a bit smug.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Of course it is."

He laughed. "No, it really is, though," he said. "For once I'm not just withholding information to spite you."

"Wait a minute," Abby said, holding up a hand. "Two things. First: you withhold information to  _spite_  me?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes."

She gave him an affronted look but continued. "Second, what exactly do you mean by 'classified'?" she said, before leaning in close to him so no one could hear. "Are you a spy or something?"

Harry beckoned her closer with a serious look on his face, and her eyes widened in anticipation for whatever he was about to share.

Then very clearly and succinctly, he whispered a loud "no" in her ear.

Abby clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Oh, you're such a prat!" she said, slumping back down in her chair and crossing her arms.

He gave her a grin before taking a sip of his coffee.

She sighed then, propping her chin up with both her hands. "Can't you tell me anything about it at all? Even a little hint?"

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Go on, tell me," she said. "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me—"

"Stop," he said loudly over the sound of her pleas. "I work in law enforcement, all right? But that's as much as I can tell you."

Abby furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "But you're not a copper," she said.

"No," he said.

"So what are you, like a private detective or something?"

"Didn't I just say I couldn't tell you?"

"Oh my God, are you a hitman?" she said with wide eyes, completely ignoring him.

He exhaled heavily and shook his head.

"Maybe a prison warden…That might be pretty wicked, as well."

"Do you know how to stop talking, or…?"

Abby then grinned widely. "You know what, it's probably something really boring. You're a crossing guard, aren't you?"

"Yeah, there you go," he said. "Why else would I dress like a ponce every day?"

"I said you dress like a stiff, not a ponce," she said. "There's a big difference, you know."

"Of course there is," he said, taking another sip from his mug.

A soft buzzing sound then met Abby's ears, and she perked up to try and listen for it again.

"Do you hear that noise?" she said. "I think it's coming from your direction."

She leaned her head toward him causing Harry to back away, looking at her as if she were mad.

"What noise?"

"That buzzing…" She straightened herself back up as it dawned on her. "It's your mobile. Do you not feel it?"

She watched as Harry looked down at his pocket with a confused expression, suddenly becoming aware of the vibrating sensation. He reached into his trousers and pulled the device out, staring at it as if he'd never seen it before.

"Well, aren't you going to pick up?" Abby said, remaining rooted to the spot instead of leaving him to his privacy like she probably should.

She couldn't help it. She was far too interested to see who might be calling him. He'd never used his phone in all the time she'd known him.

A look of recognition passed over Harry's features as he saw the number, and he let out a small sigh.

"Hello?" he answered, as if already bracing himself for some bad news.

He glanced at Abby in irritation as she casually leaned forward, but she pretended not to notice.

"Speaking," he said.

She watched him carefully as he listened to whoever was talking on the other end. And she noticed his expression shifting from mild exasperation to apprehension quite quickly as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Is he all right, what happened?" Harry said with more emotion in his voice than she'd ever heard him use before.

He stood up abruptly, shoving a hand in his pocket to drop a couple of pounds on the table. "Yeah, of course. I'll be there as soon as I can…yeah…yes…all right, thank you. Bye."

Abby stared up at him in concern. "Is everything okay?"

"What?" Harry said, turning to look at her as if forgetting she was there. "Oh yeah, fine. I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow."

He said all this very hurriedly and then made his way out the door and down the street before she could even get another word in.

Abby gazed at the spot Harry was standing not two seconds before, wondering what on earth could make him leave in such a haste.

It could be anything, she figured. Work maybe. A friend or family member in need.

A small jolt hit her as she realised that she knew absolutely nothing about any of those things. She didn't know where he worked. She didn't know if he had any family or friends. She didn't know anything about his life, at all. And that bothered her for reasons she couldn't even began to understand.

One thing she did know for relative certainty, however, was that Harry obviously cared for whoever was the subject of that phone call. And it intrigued her deeply.

Because all this time, well…she didn't think that he cared for anyone.

* * *

Harry rushed quickly into the nearby alley so he could apparate to the Burrow, numerous thoughts running through his mind at top speed as he attempted to figure out a plan of action.

_Molly will pick up Lily…I'll pick up Albus…Floo call in for work…Who's going to pick up James? Crap…Molly. Molly will pick up James…But what's wrong with Al? He was perfectly fine this morning…Wait…can Molly even pick up Lily? She's her grandmother of course she can pick her up…Davis is going to kill me…my students are going to kill me for leaving them with Davis…_

"Harry?"

Molly opened the back door of the Burrow with a surprised look on her face.

"You're early," she said, looking behind him.

"Al's school called me and said that he was running a high fever, so I have to go pick him up. Would you be able to get Lily for me? She's not done for another half hour."

"Of course, dear. Just slow down and breathe for me first," she said after he let all this out in a rush. "I'm sure Albus will be just fine with a spot of pepperup."

Harry let out a breath and nodded quickly. "I know…I just worry about him. He's always getting hurt or sick. You'd think it was James with the amount of trouble he gets in. That's what I thought they were calling me about earlier," he said.

Molly rubbed his back in a soothing manner which surprisingly helped ease some of his tension. "He'll be just fine," she said, again. "And don't worry about the other two, just take Alby home and spoil him rotten for me."

Harry smiled and nodded, giving her a look of gratitude. "You can bring James and Lily round once they're done. I'm obviously not going back into to work today."

"No, no, it's fine, dear. I'll have them for the day. You need to focus your attention on Albus," she said. "Besides, I daresay he'll appreciate the time alone with his dad."

She patted him on the cheek affectionately before sending him off, and Harry thanked her one last time and then apparated away.

He walked into the school minutes later, knowing the office locations quite well by now on account of James' long history of waywardness. He never got into too much trouble, but there was always that occasional toe out of line.

The last incident involved "accidentally" setting the class pet free, and frogs could be surprisingly defiant creatures. Apparently it took nearly all of English lesson to recapture it.

"Hello, I'm here to pick up my son," Harry announced to the elderly woman at the front desk who appeared as if she'd rather be anywhere else at the moment than her current location.

"Name?"

"Albus Potter, I got a call saying he's not feeling well."

She turned to the computer in front of her, sighing heavily as if looking up this information would take a tremendous amount of effort.

"Potter…Potter…" she muttered, scrolling through the list. "First name?"

"Albus," he repeated.

"Yes…he's with the matron," she drawled, looking up at him from above her glasses.

Harry had to restrain himself from retorting with a dry comment. Instead, he merely smiled at her. "May I see him?" he said slowly.

The woman sighed again as she pushed back her chair to stand up. "Take a seat, I'll be with you in a moment."

He rolled his eyes as she turned her back and slumped down into one of the chairs behind him, resting his head against the wall as he waited.

"Mr. Potter?" said a surprised voice.

Harry looked up to see James' teacher staring at him in confusion.

"They've only just gone to lunch, how could James have possibly gotten into trouble already?" she said, glancing down at her watch. "And he's been doing so well these past couple of months. Really, we've nearly all forgotten about the chewing gum incident. Well, I say nearly, but—"

"I'm not here for James," Harry said, putting an abrupt stop to her monologue.

"Oh! My apologies," she said, looking somewhat embarrassed. A light blush coloured her cheeks as she turned away from him to survey the empty office. "Are you being taken care of, or…"

At that moment the bored office woman walked back in with Al trailing behind her, looking utterly miserable.

"Dad?" he said in a voice that could melt the iciest of hearts.

"Hey, kiddo," he said with a smile, brushing his hair back to feel his head.

Merlin, he was burning up.

"I believe it's just the flu," a new voice said, and Harry looked up to see the matron giving Al a sympathetic look. "The poor dear…bed rest, fluids, and a cool washcloth should do the trick. If his temperature doesn't go down, however, I strongly recommend taking him to hospital."

Harry nodded hastily, barely registering what she was saying. Al was leaning against him, looking about ready to fall over, and he really just wanted to get him home. "Thank you," he told her, about to head out the door. He turned to acknowledge James' teacher who was still standing there observing the scene before her. "Can you just let James know that his brother went home?"

"Of course," she said with a polite smile.

He thanked her and then bid them both farewell, ushering himself and Al out of the office and through the corridor. "Maybe I should just take you to a healer," Harry muttered quietly.

Al shook his head which was still buried into Harry's side. "I wanna go home," he said in a faint voice.

Harry sighed. "All right, just a bit longer," he said, rubbing his back soothingly.

As soon as they reached a private enough location, Harry apparated them both back to the house where he proceeded to carry Al up the stairs. It was a sign of just how tired he really was that he didn't even protest.

Harry walked past the boys' room and into his own where he laid the boy carefully onto the bed.

"I'll be right back. I'm just going to grab a bottle of potion for you to take and a nice, cool washcloth. You're burning up."

"No," Al said, limply grabbing his arm.

"I know it tastes dreadful, but it'll make you feel better," Harry said, trying to reason with him.

"No…" Al repeated. "Don't…leave…"

Harry looked down at him in surprise. "It's only just downstairs."

"No…"

"All right, no problem, I'm right here," he said, before deftly slipping his wand out from beneath his sleeve and summoning the potion bottle instead.

Once in his hands, he tipped Al's head back gently for him to swallow the contents.

"There we go…that'll make you feel loads better, just you wait," Harry said, taking a seat on the bed next to him.

Al moaned in response. "It hurts," he said in a small voice.

"What hurts?"

"Everything," Al whimpered.

Harry shut his eyes for a moment, trying his best to ward off any feelings of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was just the flu, everyone felt achy when they had the flu.

"I know…I know, just let it out…let it all out," he said gently, as silent tears fell down Al's face and pooled onto Harry's shirt.

He looked down at him and swallowed thickly. Al wasn't one to complain a lot, even when he was sick. But as the minutes passed by, he continued to let out small moans and whimpers that nearly drove Harry mad with worry.

"Feeling any better?" he said, after some time passed. The potion should've been working by now. And if it wasn't, then Harry was apparating him straight to St. Mungos.

Al sniffled softly and nodded. "A bit, yeah."

"You're still warm," Harry said, feeling his forehead. "Do you want something to eat? Soup maybe?"

He shook his head. "I'm tired," he said.

Sure enough, his eyes were slowly beginning to droop.

Harry waited there for a few more minutes until he was sure that Al was asleep, before carefully slipping himself out of the bed and sitting down against the wardrobe.

He locked his fingers behind his neck, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared down at the floor.

He hated this. He hated how much he worried, how anxious he got over every little thing. Why couldn't he just be normal? What if his kids grew to resent him? He tried his best not to be too overprotective, but what if they saw through it all?

Harry ran a hand roughly through his hair as he attempted to silence all these thoughts. Walking over to Al, he placed a feather-light kiss on his forehead, transfigured his clothes into comfortable pyjamas and then silently left the room.

When he reached the grate downstairs, he threw in some floo powder and stuck his head in, calling out "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Tracey Davis."

She was sat at her desk doing some paperwork and looked up when he called her name.

"Potter? Where are you?"

"At home. I'm not coming in today, my son's home sick," he said.

"But they have their exam in half an hour," Tracey said. "Don't tell me I have to run it on my own."

"Just grab any one of the junior Aurors. Erikson or Kamely will do," Harry said, earning a disgusted look from her.

"What is it, what's wrong with them?" he said as if speaking to a moody teenager. He was quite used to her criticisms of nearly everyone in the department.

"You know I dated Erikson a while back, and we're not exactly on the best of terms," she said through gritted teeth. "And Kamely is a weirdo who smells like feet."

Harry placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose, and breathed in deeply. "Davis, do what you're told, or I'll give you court reporting duty for the next month."

She snarled at him. "You so owe me for this," she muttered, abruptly cutting off their connection.

He rolled his eyes and removed his head from the fire.

Davis was all right when she wanted to be. He would never consider them friends or anything, more like unwilling acquaintances. For a long time, in fact, he was positive she hated his guts. But then he quickly realised she just hated everyone in varying degrees.

Her family had been neutral during the war, a fact which didn't go over too well with the rest of Wizarding society. While families associated with known Death Eaters received the most hatred and abuse, those who were neutral were looked upon with disdain, as well.

Till this day, Harry attempted to bridge the gap that the war had created. But he found that no matter how much he tried to speak of things like acceptance and forgiveness and equality, his words often fell on deaf ears. It was so much easier to change laws and institutions than it was to change people's hearts and minds.

So he couldn't really blame Davis for her cynical view of the world. He was fairly certain that she'd been at a great disadvantage in the selection process for training, but she'd been accepted in the end because she was simply a damn good candidate. And currently one of the best Aurors, in his opinion.

He just hoped she wasn't too vicious on the trainees today. More for his sake than anyone else's because he knew he would be getting an earful from both ends.

Harry exhaled heavily, ridding these thoughts from his mind as he undid his tie and threw it over the couch. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it as well, feeling that familiar satisfaction of finally being able to untuck his undershirt and kick off his shoes. He didn't really mind 'dressing like a stiff' as Abby had so eloquently put it earlier. He just loathed neckties with a passion.

Thoughts of her crossed his mind as he entered the kitchen to make Al's favourite soup. He suddenly felt a bit guilty for rushing off earlier with barely a goodbye. For the tiniest fraction of a second, he even considered giving her an actual explanation tomorrow.

Harry sometimes wondered when, or even if, he should tell her that he had children. It wasn't that big of a deal, he supposed. Then again, this was the girl who freaked out simply because she learned his surname.

But it wasn't as if he was obligated to tell her anything, really. Sure he considered her an acquaintance, maybe even a friend. But he highly doubted he'd ever let her in enough to actually meet his kids. The notion itself was too absurd to even contemplate.

* * *

"And you're sure that you're feeling 100% better?" Harry asked for probably the fifth time as Al entered the kitchen the next morning.

"Yes, Dad, I promise," he said with slight exasperation.

"I'd just skive off another day of classes if I were you," James said through a mouthful of eggs. "Then again, I'm not you cause I'm not a nerd."

"Yes, thank you for that input, James," Harry said.

"What's a nerd?" Lily said from her spot at the table.

"Someone who's really funny and clever and handsome, too," Al said, causing James to choke on his orange juice.

Harry chuckled in response, ruffling Al's head as he walked by.

"Dad! Are you really going to let him ruin Lily's vocabulary for the rest of her life?" James said.

He shrugged. "I think that's a perfectly acceptable definition."

"Listen Lils, apparently I'm the only one who cares about you and your future," James told his sister seriously. "A nerd is someone who's always got their head stuck in a book and actually  _likes_  doing schoolwork. They always do what they're told, and they're dead boring to hang out with."

Lily seemed to think about this for a moment. "But Al's not boring," she said with all the innocence of a four-year old.

"I don't know why I bother," James said, throwing his hands up in the air.

Al grinned. "Thanks Lils, I always knew I liked you better."

"All right you three," Harry said. "Less talking and more eating."

The rest of the morning routine went by fairly smoothly, and James and Al arrived at school with more than enough time to spare.

"Remember, if you feel a fever coming on at all, or if anything starts to hurt, just let your teacher know, okay?" Harry told Al once they reached the school.

"Don't worry, Dad, I will," he said.

Harry squeezed his shoulder gently, and then bid them both goodbye.

"Let's go, flower," he said, offering his hand for Lily to take.

"Will you pick me up today, Daddy?" she said, looking up at him. "Cause you weren't there yesterday."

"I know, but that's because Al wasn't feeling well. I'll be there waiting for you today, though. I promise," he said.

"Good, or else I'll be upset," she said, squinting her eyes at him with an angry expression.

"No, please! Anything but that," he cried. "I promise I won't let you down again!"

"We'll see," she said with a shrug.

Harry chuckled. "Sometimes I think your attitude is bigger than you," he said.

When they reached the front entrance, he knelt down so that they were level. "Give me a kiss," he said, tapping his cheek.

She planted a noisy one on both sides and embraced him tightly before running up the steps with the other children.

He apparated to the Ministry soon after, mentally bracing himself as he rode through the lift for what was going to meet him when he got off.

And sure enough, as soon he stepped onto the second floor, a sea of blonde hair whipped across his face and he felt himself being dragged away by a vice-like grip.

"Can I at least have my arm back? I think you're cutting off circulation," he said loudly.

Davis ignored him and continued to pull him along until they reached her office, where she opened the door and ordered him to enter with an aggressive "in."

"I take it, it didn't go as smoothly as planned," he said, sitting down on the chair in front of her desk.

She glared at him. "No, Potter. It didn't," she said. "I asked Kamely to help like you suggested, against my better judgement might I add, and the moron completely hindered the entire process. I would've been better off alone!"

"Care to elaborate?" he said, crossing his arms.

"Oh,  _gladly._ Let's see, he didn't follow the guidelines we created, he completely changed two of the obstacle courses, and for Merlin's sake, he even passed Weber. Weber should not have been passed," she said, leaning her arms on the desk so she could tower over him.

"You done?" he said.

She clenched her jaw, but sat down. "For now," she said, with some iciness still in her voice.

"Look, I'm sorry, all right? I really am. I owe you big time for this, and I know that. Is there anything I can do right now to make it up to you?" he said.

"Sack the moron," she said.

Harry shook his head. "I would, but his only offense is that he smells like feet, and unfortunately that's no grounds for a dismissal," he said.

A small look of amusement passed over Tracey's face. "God, he reeks though," she said.

"Did he really change the obstacles?" Harry said.

"Only slightly," she said, leaning back in her chair. "But it was enough to irk the living daylights out of me."

"And we know that's not very hard to do," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, brushing him off. "Anyway, how's your spawn doing? Albert or whatever."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "It's Albus," he said. "You know, like Albus Dumbledore. Sort of an important wizard. Some would even argue the greatest who ever lived. Ever heard of him?"

She gave him a look confusion. "I thought you were the greatest wizard who ever lived?"

"Yeah, that's why he's also named Potter," Harry said.

Tracey let out a loud bark of laughter. "Touché, Potter, touché."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Anyway, I should go," he said. "Hopefully I make it out of morning classes alive. They'll never forgive me for leaving them alone with you on an exam day."

"You should have seen the fear on their faces when they found out you weren't going to be there. I'll relish that image for many days to come," she said, biting her bottom lip.

"Yeah…they're definitely going to do me in," Harry said, before exiting the office.

Sure enough, when he entered the classroom, a dozen voices erupted at once, all firing questions or making comments or complaints.

He called for them to settle down and they immediately became quiet.

"First of all, I just want to apologise for not being here yesterday. I had to stay home with my son who wasn't feeling well, so I entrusted Auror Davis with the responsibility of leading your exams. I understand that she may be slightly more intimidating than I am," he said as murmurs of assent filled the room. "But it's meant to be a simulation of reality, and luckily she's a very good representation of some of the aggressors you may face in future."

This earned a couple chuckles throughout the room.

"That being said, I'm not going to fail any of you because of one exam. You're almost done with this term, and I have full confidence that all of you will proceed to the final year of training."

Harry could almost feel the relief emanating from each and every student at his words, and he had to let out a small laugh. "There are services for anyone who may need counselling as a result of this ordeal."

"I know you're taking the mick, sir, but some of us might actually need those after yesterday," a man named Jack pointed out, causing the class to break out in chuckles again.

"Your son is well again I hope, sir?"

"He's doing much better, yes. Thank you, Elizabeth," Harry said with a small smile.

The rest of the class period ran smoothly after that, and he even let them out a bit early as a sort of consolation for all Davis had put them through.

"And don't tell her I said that," he added loudly as they all packed up their things up. "I'll see you all later. Be prepared to work hard."

* * *

Harry sat down in his usual seat, feeling utterly exhausted. He'd been busy all morning trying to make up for his day off yesterday. Chaos apparently ensued in the department if he wasn't there, and that would have to change drastically. But he didn't want to think about that now.

Abby appeared at that moment with a happy smile on her face. "Harry!" she said, as if she were surprised to see him, despite the fact that he came every day at the same time.

"Abby," he said, not nearly as enthusiastically.

"I didn't think you'd be here today. You left in such a rush last time, is everything all right?" she said,

"Everything's fine," he said with a nod.

He saw something flash in her eyes, but she merely smiled at him. "I'm glad."

She then walked away without another word, and that blasted feeling of guilt swept over him again. Why on earth was he feeling guilty? He didn't owe her an explanation. He didn't owe her anything. But that didn't stop the unpleasant sensation that ran through him.

Abby didn't come back to his table at all which was a rare for her. Sure the café was quite busy today, but she always made a point of talking to him.

He sighed heavily, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched her. He liked to watch her sometimes as she went from table to table, that ever present smile across her face. And he liked to watch the people she talked to, as well, because they smiled back. Some out of politeness, some out of friendliness, some because they simply didn't know how else to respond. But as Harry watched her, he noticed something that caused the small seed of guilt to grow inside him.

She didn't talk to them the way she talked to him.

She didn't have their orders ready before they even sat down or steal sections of their newspapers or sit with them when she was bored. She didn't rush to them when they entered the shop or shout goodbye when they left.

For whatever reason, Abby had chosen him as a friend. And that baffled him to be honest. Why would she pick him when there were so many other kinder, friendlier, happier people?

Harry sighed again and got up. He walked over to the counter in the back where she was stood at the register.

"Abby," he said.

She looked up with surprise clearly written on her face.

"Harry? Is something wrong?" she said, appearing worried.

He tapped his fingers on the counter top, not quite sure what exactly he wanted to say, but just knowing that he should probably say something.

"Er…" he started.

She looked at him strangely.

"Well, the thing is…"

He could hear her biting her teeth down in some sort of rhythm as she shifted her eyes to the side.

"Look, er, do you want to hang out this weekend?" he said suddenly.

He mentally cursed, wondering what on earth possessed him to ask such a thing.

Abby stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "Seriously?" she said.

"Sure, why not," he muttered, trying to pull off a nonchalant shrug.

"Erm…okay," she said. "Where exactly?"

Harry considered this for a moment. What did people do when they hung out? He usually just went to Ron and Hermione's house or vice versa. He couldn't even remember the last time they actually went out somewhere.

"I don't really know," he said.

To his surprise, Abby merely laughed.

"We can walk aimlessly around the city centre and then drop a Jelly Baby on the ground to see how many people step on it," she suggested.

"Er...okay."

"Great! I look forward to doing nothing with you," she said, offering her hand to him.

He accepted and gave it a firm shake. "I might not sleep from the anticipation," he said.

"I work till five tomorrow," she said. "My flat is only two roads down, but we can meet here if you prefer."

"Yeah, sure that's fine. I…guess I'll see you then."

He was about to turn away when he heard Abby call his name. He could sense a sort of hesitation in her voice that put him a bit on edge. "Yeah?" he said.

She glanced down for a moment before looking up at him. "The phone call you received yesterday…it had to do with someone you care about?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily. He should have known that she would never be able to restrain her curiosity. It was her greatest flaw and her greatest virtue. And unfortunately it was his greatest nuisance.

He stared at her with just the smallest hint of amusement and shook his head.

"What?" she said.

"You can tear down mountains with your persistence," he said with a mixture of frustration and awe.

She gazed at him, but didn't respond.

"Yes," Harry finally answered. "It had to do with someone I care about."

Abby nodded, absentmindedly biting the nail of her thumb.

"You probably shouldn't do that," he said, gesturing toward her hand.

She immediately dropped it, and then let out a loud puff of air.

"Will you ever tell me?" she said.

Harry looked into her eyes. He liked her eyes. They were all warm and open.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Yeah, I will."


	9. Chapter 9

"Daddy! I forgot Wanda at home," Lily said as soon as they set foot in the sitting room of the Burrow.

"Nope," Harry said, opening her rucksack and pulling out the stuffed hippogriff. "I packed it before we left."

Lily exhaled in relief and thanked him quickly before running off into a short crowd of redheads.

It was a quarter to six and Harry knew he should be going. He was supposed to meet Abby in front of the café in fifteen minutes, but for some reason he was finding it difficult to leave. Usually on Saturday evenings, he would just drop the kids off and go home, but today he was looking for any excuse to prolong his stay.

He knew it was ridiculous and frankly quite rude if he were late meeting her. But there was a part of him that felt inexplicably anxious. What would they do? What would they talk about? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd hung out with anyone besides Ron or Hermione, or on the rare occasion Neville or Luna.

He also felt a just a trace of guilt, as if he were letting the rest of his family down or as if he were betraying them. It was absurd, yes, but it was there. He hadn't told anyone about this little outing. Hell, he hadn't told them about Abby, at all. And he didn't like keeping secrets, especially from his children.

She was just a friend, of course, but he wasn't sure how everyone would react to this new friendship. She was a muggle, for one. That complicated things a bit. And second, well…she was a woman. A decent looking one too, he supposed. Not that any of this mattered to him.

He just didn't know what it was about her. He hadn't been looking for friends. He hadn't been interested in any sort of social relationship at all. He wasn't sure why he'd asked her to hang out in the first place. And he had no idea why he felt the need to keep it all a secret.

Everything confused him to no end, and he strongly considered just cancelling the night all together. But then he realised that he had no way of contacting her, and he wasn't the sort to stand a person up.

Besides, he was positive that she would never let him hear the end of it.

So, with a heavy heart and one last goodbye to James, Al, and Lily, Harry exited through the back door and apparated away.

Once he reached the alleyway, he blended into the crowd on the main road, shoving his hands in his pockets and not making eye contact with anyone.

"Harry!"

He looked up to see Abby sitting on a ledge on the shop window and waving at him.

"Why do you always sound surprised to see me?" he said when he made his way over to her.

"Because I  _am_  always surprised to see you," she said. "I keep waiting for you to tell me to sod off."

"Strange…" Harry said. "I could have sworn I tried that before…"

"Very funny," she said. "Now enough talk, let's go. We have an adventure to start!"

"Where exactly are we going?" Harry said, squeezing through a crowd to catch up.

"Dunno yet," she called behind her.

He sighed, quickening his pace until he was in step with her. She was a bit shorter than him, so he had no idea why he was having trouble keeping up. Then again, she was also able to weave in and out of people with a grace he could never achieve.

She led him all the way to the entrance of the Underground, through the kiosk, and down the escalators without a word. The platform was packed with people heading home: commuters, students, children screaming for their parents, everyone rushing in either direction. It was a noisy and crowded atmosphere. But when he turned to look at Abby as they stood there waiting for the next train, he was surprised to see a pleasant smile spread across her face.

"What are you smiling about?" he couldn't help but ask.

She looked caught off guard. "Was I smiling?"

"Yes…or is that just your resting face?" he said. "Can't say I'd be surprised."

Abby laughed loudly. "No, it's not…I think," she said. "I just love the sound of a train platform."

Harry stared at her.

"Oh, don't give me that look!" she said. "Just listen. Listen really closely. Isn't it lovely?"

He listened for a second, and then shook his head. "Not particularly, no."

Abby dropped her head back and groaned. "You have to  _really_ listen," she said. "Don't you hear it? There…someone playing violin…people talking and laughing, the voice on the intercom, the noise of the train arriving. It all just sounds so full and alive and so lovely."

Her blue eyes sparkled as she gazed at the environment around her, the same smile still plastered on her face. And before he could even comment, she beckoned him toward the open doors of the train and disappeared within.

Harry shook his head as if in a daze, but quickly followed behind her. He was beginning to realise that he would have to do a lot of catching up today. In more ways than one.

The train wasn't obnoxiously crowded, but there were still enough people to make the journey a bit uncomfortable. And Abby, being who she was, had to acknowledge the fact.

"Is this close proximity making you nervous?" she whispered, sidling up next to him despite there being enough room to fit two more people.

Harry simply gave her a look.

In response, she edged even closer to him so that their arms were touching. "How about now?"

"No," he said.

Abby chuckled. "Quick response there," she said. "Lucky, too. I was just about to climb up on your shoulders."

"I worry because I know you're serious," Harry said.

She grinned. "I'm glad we're on the same page, then."

"Hardly," he muttered.

At the end of the line they got off into the heart of the city. The air was pleasant and breezy, rippling through their hair and across their faces as they walked along the South Bank of the river.

"Have you always lived in London?" Abby said, turning her head to look at him.

"No, I…grew up in Surrey," he said.

She gave him a sly smile. "That explains the posh accent."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'd hardly consider it posh."

"Posher than mine, at least," she said with a shrug. "When did you move?"

"Well, I went to boarding school in Scotland—"

" _Boarding school?"_ she cut in. "In Scotland?"

"Yes, I believe that's what I said."

"Why?" she said. "Did your parents force you?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at his shoes as he walked. "I went there because my parents did," he said. It wasn't a complete lie. "And no, they didn't force me. They, er…they actually died when I was a baby."

Abby paused abruptly in her step.

He sighed inwardly, knowing what was coming. He suddenly wished she weren't a muggle. That she knew all about his world, all about him, so that he wouldn't have to go explaining things like this.

He turned to face her, noticing the deep frown set on her face.

"So you never knew them?" she said.

"No."

She closed her eyes for a second and then shook her head.

"It's not a big deal," he said, attempting to reassure her as she seemed unreasonably saddened. "You can't miss something you never had."

She looked up at him. "But that's not true, is it?" she said.

Harry was slightly taken aback. Why couldn't she just offer her sympathies and move on? No, she had to go asking questions like that, instead. Questions that haunted his very existence for so many years. Questions he didn't want to consider, but bury deep within him alongside so many others he dared not acknowledge.

"I dunno," he said, picking up his pace again.

They walked in silence for a bit more before Harry sighed and decided to pick up the conversation again. "And you? Have you lived here all your life?"

She seemed to snap out of a daze before turning to acknowledge him. "Erm, yeah. Born and bred in South London, barely ever left the city," she said. "Even went to university here."

Harry raised his eyebrows causing her to chuckle in response.

"Yes, I'm well-educated as you can probably tell from my thriving career," she said. "Very competitive field, the coffee shop industry."

"Look, I…I didn't mean to—"

"Harry, it's fine," she said, smiling good-naturedly. "I'd be surprised too. And anyway, it's not as if I'm a rocket scientist or anything. I have a degree in music."

He raised his eyebrows even higher this time. "Seriously? Wow, that's…that's brilliant," he said. "What do you play?"

Abby smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Er, well a few instruments actually, but mainly piano. I've played for as long as I can remember. My mum taught me," she said. "It's wonderful…playing, I mean. I love it more than anything."

Harry noticed her face start to flush as she talked. She was always quite a passionate person, but he'd never seen such a fervent look in her eyes before.

"W-what is it?" she said, faltering slightly.

"Nothing, just…you sort of glow when you talk about it," he said.

Abby gazed at him for a moment before turning away. "Maybe I can play for you sometime," she said.

"Yeah, definitely. I'd like that," Harry said, nodding his head. "So, er, what would your ideal job be, then? I mean, I know you love serving me coffee every day, but…"

She laughed, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Well, I'd want to perform, of course. Not just at regular gigs like pubs and weddings, though. But genuine on-stage performance, playing classical pieces in front of an audience that actually cares about music," she said. "That would be…just, incredible."

"Beggars can't be choosers, though," she continued with a shrug. "I'd take anything at the moment, but unfortunately the job market is rather slim. Especially for someone who doesn't even own a piano."

"You don't have one?" Harry asked in surprise.

Abby cleared her throat and looked away. "Well, I used to," she said. "But, erm, it's a long story."

He stared at her, trying to read her expression, but the wind was blowing her hair across her face and she was making no attempt to fix it.

"Anyway," she said, brightening up suddenly. "Are you satisfied with your career, Harry? Whatever it is that you do."

He knew she was changing the subject on purpose, but he couldn't really fault her for it. It would be quite hypocritical of him, after all.

"Yeah, I suppose I am," he said with a shrug.

He couldn't really imagine himself being anything besides an Auror. Even though he primarily led training these days, he was still heavily involved in cases. And being head of the department meant he had to oversee many of the tasks. It was actually one of the few areas in his life that he felt satisfied about.

Abby smiled at him. "That's fantastic," she said. "I hope you always will be."

Harry felt a small rush of admiration for her. She always seemed to share in others' happiness with such genuine enthusiasm. He noticed that about her long ago with everyone that came into the café. And it was one of the things he liked best about her, to be honest.

"So," Abby said, leading him over to a nearby bench. "Now comes the most important part of the night."

He raised an eyebrow as she dug around in her bag for something, and then pulled out a pack of Jelly Babies.

Harry laughed out loud. "Of course, how could I forget?"

"How could you, indeed," she said. "Now, the object of the game is to see how many people step on your individual baby. You are responsible for placing it wherever you deem most fit to attract the highest number of steps."

"Could you not call them babies?" he said in amusement. "That makes it seem much more brutal."

"There's a time and a place for pacifism, Harry," she said, holding up her hand.

"Right, sorry."

"Anyway, the person who has the most steps at the end wins, obviously. But there's a catch," she said with a mischievous grin.

Harry sighed, knowing he wasn't going to like this. "Give it to me straight."

"All right, so whenever a baby gets stuck to someone's shoe, you have to go up to that person, say one random thing, and then walk away."

He stared at her. "Sorry?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Let's say you step on one, right? So I'd go up to you and say 'Excuse me sir, I quite like your jumper' and then simply walk away."

"Wha—why?" Harry blurted out.

"Because it's funny," she said with a shrug. "I usually like to give compliments because then there's the added bonus of making someone feel good."

"You've done this before?"

"Oh yeah, I used to play with some friends of mine a long time ago out of boredom. Though we usually did it in school corridors," she said.

Harry sighed heavily. "Fine, whatever. Let's just do it."

She flashed him a brilliant smile and passed him the bag. "Choose your first soldier."

He stuck his hand in and picked out a red one, and then handed it over to Abby who got yellow.

"All right, now we place them somewhere," she said.

Harry had half a mind to drop his in the river, but figured that would be futile since there was a whole bag of 'soldiers' just waiting to be recruited.

"Let the games begin," Abby said, once they were both seated back on the bench.

They sat there for a few minutes, both calling out their scores with each new point, when Abby's yellow baby got stuck first.

She grinned excitedly and jogged up to a group of hard-looking teenage boys. Or attempting to look hard, anyway.

"Excuse me," Abby said, tapping one of them on the shoulder.

Harry shook his head, peering at the scene through his fingers in second-hand embarrassment.

"What?" the boy asked with a sneer.

"You look like you have really soft hands," she said with a smile.

Before he could say anything, she turned around and walked away, leaving a very confused group behind her.

"That's all you've got to do," she told Harry as she sat back down.

He stared at her. "I thought you were supposed to make him feel good, not guarantee him a ribbing from his mates."

"He was rude," she said with a shrug.

"Ooh, Harry, look!" she said suddenly, pointing to an elderly woman walking with what he guessed was her husband. "Looks like it's your turn."

"No," he groaned, slumping in his seat.

"Oh, come on! It takes five seconds, just go," she said, pushing him along.

Running a hand through his hair, he stood up with a sigh and walked over to the woman.

"Excuse me," he said politely.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Er…you have a lovely smile," he said, feeling his face burn up.

She looked a bit taken aback by the compliment, but beamed at him nonetheless. "Oh, how very sweet of you, dear. Did you hear that Wilfred? He said he liked my smile," she said, patting her husband's arm.

"Yes, I was right here," the man said.

Harry cleared his throat. "Right, er, goodbye, then."

He turned around and walked quickly back to the bench. "Stop."

"Stop what?" Abby said.

"Grinning like an idiot."

She giggled. "I can't help it. That was so sweet, I don't even have words."

"That's a first."

"I knew you were just a big ole softie on the inside," she said, nudging him playfully.

"How long do we have to keep this going?" he said, disregarding her comment.

"Until the bag is done."

Harry considered this for a moment. He then swiped the bag out of her hands, grabbed a hand full of Jelly Babies and stuffed them in his mouth.

Abby guffawed loudly, earning several stares from passers-by. "You're regretting that, aren't you?" she said with a smug look.

Yes, but he would never admit it aloud. Both out of pride and the fact that there was an unpleasant explosion of sugar in his mouth that was preventing him from speaking. When he finally swallowed them all, he threw his head back and massaged his jaw. "God, why do they make those so tough to chew?" he said in irritation.

"Because you're not supposed to eat half the bag at once, lovely," she said.

"Yeah well, desperate times call for desperate measures. Your turn by the way," he said, practically shoving her off the bench.

She turned around and mouthed the word 'rude' at him before making her way over to the small toddler holding onto his mother's hand.

"Excuse me, sir," Abby said, leaning down so they were eye level. "Your hat is absolutely wicked, and I just had to let you know."

Harry smiled as the little boy giggled and tugged on his mother's arm. "She called me 'sir', Mummy," he said.

"I know, I heard. Say thank you to the nice lady, Timothy."

"Thank you," the boy told her shyly.

"You are very welcome," Abby said, bowing her head before waving goodbye.

"Cute kid," she said, as she sat back down.

Harry nodded as he munched on a few jellies. "Yeah, I love that age," he said without thinking.

"You like kids?" Abby said with her eyebrows raised.

"What?" Harry said, looking at her. "Oh. Oh, yeah…they're funny, aren't they?"

_And I have three of my very own._

"Yeah," she said, popping a few jellies in her mouth, as well. "They're like miniature, uncoordinated humans, it's adorable. I tend to get along with them because I'm a kid myself."

Harry felt a strange rush of relief at her words. He knew it was ridiculous. Even if she hated children it made no difference to his life. But every time he thought it, there was always that quiet voice in the very back of his mind telling him that maybe, just maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if he let her meet his family.

He sighed heavily, thinking that he might talk to Hermione about it at the very least.

"Hey, your turn," Abby said, breaking into his thoughts.

She motioned toward a woman who was leaning against the railing, taking a photograph of the scene before her.

Harry scowled but stood up, nonetheless. "I'm only doing this because I'm almost done eating my way through the entire bag," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just go," Abby said, waving him off.

He walked up to the woman and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Er, hi," Harry said when she turned around. "I…like your camera."

She stared at him. "Thank you," she said, looking confused.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to let you know. Bye then," he said before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Wait," the woman called out.

Harry glared at Abby for a second before turning back around. "Yes?"

"Do you want to know what model it is?" she said, her voice uncertain.

"Erm…" he said, his voice going slightly higher as he rubbed the back of his neck. "That's fine, I don't really know much about cameras."

"Oh...well, if you just wanted to come talk to me, you could've done," she said, a light blush appearing on her cheeks. "No need for pretences."

She then flicked her hair aside in what some would call an alluring manner and gave him a not so discreet once-over.

Harry groaned internally, silently cursing Abby who he could hear laughing quietly behind him.

"Right…thanks for the tip," he said, looking anywhere but her face.

They both stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"Harry! There you are," Abby said, pretending to be out of breath as she ran up to him. "Come on! I swear if we're late to this party, I'm disowning you as a brother."

He nodded a quick farewell to the woman behind him before allowing himself to be dragged off.

Once they were a good distance away, Abby burst out laughing despite the scowl on Harry's face.

"I am never playing that game again," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, don't be such a spoil sport!"

"She thought I was trying to hit on her," he said, enunciating the words for emphasis.

Abby covered her mouth with her hand attempting to suppress her giggles but failing miserably. "You should have just pretended you actually liked cameras," she said.

"Well, I didn't want to lie. What if she asked me a question?"

"Then try to hit on her, instead," she said with a shrug.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome for rescuing you by the way. And notice how I specifically made it clear we were family, so that she wouldn't think you were a sleaze ball for checking out other women," Abby said, dragging her fingers across the railing as she walked ahead of him.

"How very considerate of you," he said.

She swung around a lamppost and stuck her head out from behind it. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved. Can we just get something quick?"

"Fine with me. I'm not one for fancy dining," she said.

They entered the nearest small shop soon after, both ordering exceptionally greasy food.

"The trick is to soak it all up with your napkin first," Abby said, demonstrating for him. "It usually takes about three napkins for me. See, have a look."

"Get that away from my face," Harry said, pushing her arm aside.

"Feel it," she said, waving it around.

"I don't want to feel it."

"I dare you."

"No."

"Fine, your loss. It sort of moisturises the hands a bit," she said with a grin.

They continued the rest of their dinner with ongoing trivial conversation and banter. Abby was easy to talk to, he had to give her that. And he couldn't really describe the feeling, but somehow it was just pleasant to be around her. She was a pleasant person, in general. Her eyes were kind, her smile was warm and unassuming, and everything about her exuded a sort of sincerity.

When he walked her back to her flat at the end of the night, he realised for the first time since this strange relationship began that he truly did consider her a friend. Maybe even a close one. And it was this thought that made him reach a final decision in his mind.

"Do you want to come up for tea?" Abby said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Er…"

"It's a Saturday, so my flatmate won't be home until well after midnight," she said, turning to unlock the door. "I realise you probably don't like meeting new people."

Harry sniffed in amusement, feeling strangely touched that she understood and accepted that.

"Yeah, sure," he said with a nod.

"I know it looks a bit dingy," she told him as he followed her up the stairs. "But I promise there are no nutters around here. Besides me, of course."

Harry laughed in response. "It looks fine," he said. Which wasn't a lie. He'd seen many a dodgy flat throughout his auror missions and this hardly compared.

"Here we are," she said, opening the door and allowing him to enter.

It was a relatively small, but comfortable looking living space. The walls were decorated with a few pictures, but that was pretty much the only personal touch in the room.

"I know, it's quite dull," Abby said, as she shuffled around, trying to straighten things up. "And quite messy."

"I'd hardly consider this messy," Harry said, well-acquainted with the true meaning of the word.

"I'll go put the kettle on," Abby said. "Also, you're allowed to sit down, you know."

Harry gave her a sarcastic smile before heading over to the couch.

She walked back in soon after, taking a seat and tucking her legs underneath her. "Do you know what I hate more than anything?" she said, staring around the room.

"War and famine?" Harry said.

"White walls," she said. "Although, yes. Those are also…very unfortunate things."

"Why don't you just paint them?" he said.

Abby sighed heavily. "I'm not allowed. I even offered to re-paint them white again if I move out," she said. "I'll just never understand how people can go through life with white walls when there are so many different colours they can choose from."

"Well, the solution is quite simple, isn't it," he said.

She raised a brow in question.

"Become a professional pianist. Buy a house. Paint your walls," he said, causing her to laugh.

"Yeah…" she said. "That'd be something, wouldn't it?"

"You could do it," he said with confidence.

"Harry, you've never even heard me play," she said, giving him an amused look.

He stared at her for a moment. "No…but I don't have to," he said.

"Why's that?" she said.

"Abby…" he said with a more serious tone. "I've never met anyone who comes into work every day with the amount of enthusiasm that you have. I mean…you've got a job you don't want, you never get a day off, I don't know what your hours are like, but I'm sure they're terrible. And despite all that, you put every ounce of energy into what you do, and you never stop. If that's what you're like as a waitress…I mean, I can't even begin to imagine how amazing you must be as a musician."

She gazed at him and exhaled softly.

"Harry, I—that—I mean," she said, her face turning slightly red from embarrassment.

And before he even realised what was happening, she'd thrown her arms around him in a close embrace. He awkwardly patted her back a few times, feeling a bit shocked and not quite knowing what else to do.

"I'm sorry!" she said, abruptly letting go. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Really, I didn't mean to."

Harry gave her a reassuring look. "It's fine…really."

"Are you sure?" she said uncertainly. "It won't happen again—I mean…it might happen again. It's just that—"

"Abby," he said loudly, trying to shut her up. "Relax, all right?"

"All right," she said in a small voice. "But Harry…that was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me before. Truly…thank you."

"Well, I meant it," he said with a shrug. "And you're welcome."

She gave him a warm smile. "You surprise me all the time, you know," she said softly before getting up to check on the tea.

Harry watched her go, thinking just how many surprises she had yet to discover. He'd come to a decision earlier, and he didn't want to go back on it now. He had to tell her. And if he didn't tell her now, then he'd just keep making up excuses not to in the future.

He tapped his fingers on his knee, feeling a bit nervous for some reason. He honestly didn't know how she would react, and though it didn't necessarily matter in the long run, he really hoped it was in a positive manner.

"All right, your tea and some biscuits," she said, setting it down in front of him. "Blimey, I feel like I'm at work."

Harry smiled and thanked her.

There was silence for a moment, before he cleared his throat, feeling an uncomfortable twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach.

_Merlin, what is wrong with me? Why the bloody hell am I nervous?_

"Er…" he began, ever the eloquent speaker. "So, I sort of wanted to talk to you about something."

Abby looked up as she bit into her biscuit.

"Right, so…you know the other day? When you asked me about that phone call?" he said.

"Oh," she said, slightly surprised. "Yeah, of course."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sat up a little straighter, looking her in the eye. "Well, it was about…the phone call was…erm," he said. Then exhaling heavily, he said in a clear voice: "It was about my son."

She froze in the process of chewing on her biscuit and simply stared at him.

"My son was at school. He wasn't feeling well, so I had to go pick him up," he said.

Abby opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. She tried again, but still no sound.

"Are you just going to stare at me blankly for the rest of the night, or…?"

"I'm just…I can't…"

Her eyes were wide with shock as she continued to start and abruptly cut off her sentences.

"Harry…" she tried again. "You're a  _dad_?"

He nodded.

Abby covered her mouth with her hand. "I can't believe it," she whispered. "I mean…I'm sure you're not lying, it's just… _you_ …you're you…"

"I am me, yes." he said.

She shook her head in disbelief, biting on her finger nail as she looked on in deep thought.

"How old is he?" she asked with fascination.

"Seven," Harry said.

" _Seven?_  Wow, that's quite old," she said.

"He's not even my oldest," he said, knowing an explosion was about to occur.

And sure enough, Abby's eyes immediately bugged out even more if it were possible. "You have  _more_?"

"I have three," he said, finding this way more amusing than he thought he would.

She sprung up from her seat and immediately started pacing in front of him, still incessantly biting on her fingernails.

"Surprise," Harry said, leaning back and watching her.

"I-I can't even wrap my head around this," she said. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way or anything, Harry, but…you just never struck me as 'dad material'."

"That's fair," he said with a nod.

As if a switch had suddenly been turned on, she hopped on the table in front of him, sitting cross-legged with an intense look on her face. "How old are the other two? What are their names? What are they like? Tell me everything!"

Harry sighed. He knew her curiosity would win out eventually. "Well, the oldest is eight, the youngest is four. Their names are James, Albus, and Lily. And…well, they're perfect in every way."

She gave him a look that he was certain only girls were capable of giving. The sort of look meant for babies and puppies. "That is so sweet, Harry," she said with a smile.

"Mmm," he said.

She then stared at her fingers for a moment, as if thinking about something intently. "Erm…do they live with you all the time?" she said, her voice hesitant.

"Yeah…yeah, they do," he said.

He knew this part of the conversation was inevitable, but he'd still been dreading it since he'd first decided to tell her. Of course she'd want to know about his situation. Any person would. It wasn't exactly commonplace for a twenty-nine-year-old to have three children and no wedding ring.

A dull pain pulsed in his chest at the thought. God, he hated talking about this. It was like re-opening a wound again and again before it ever had time to heal. But that was the problem…perhaps there would never be enough time for it to heal.

He looked up at Abby to see her still staring intently at her fingers.

"I was married once," he said.

The words sounded deafening in the silent room.

Her blue eyes slowly travelled up until they met his, but she didn't say anything.

He was somewhat surprised actually that she wasn't pestering him with questions as she might have done usually. Maybe she was still in shock. Or maybe she just realised that this was one conversation he wished to talk about on his own terms. Whatever the reason, he appreciated it.

"We got married when I was twenty-one. She was twenty. And erm…I loved her," he said with a shrug. "I loved her…I still do."

He cleared his throat, scratching his scalp in a fidgety manner before running a hand through his hair.

"And the thing is, we knew we'd be together forever," he said, swallowing hard. "But...she died. Three years ago."

When he finally uttered the words aloud, he felt as if his very soul protested in response. Even after all this time, a part of him still held on to the wild hope that it had all been some terrible nightmare. That he'd wake up one day, and she'd be there, waiting for him.

"No," a voice whispered.

His head shot up, nearly forgetting for a moment where he was and who he'd been talking to. He was surprised to see Abby's eyes looking a bit watery.

"Harry," she said softly. "I can't even begin to imagine…It's just not fair.  _It's not fair_."

She said these last words through clenched teeth, almost as if she were angry. And it was strange. His family, his friends, the whole rest of the goddamn wizarding world had all been sad for him. But no one had ever been angry for him. And somehow it felt a bit satisfying. Because he _was_  angry. Merlin, he was so angry. Angry at life for dealing him a shit hand again and again. Angry that his children would never grow up with a mother. Angry that he would have to live alone for the rest of his life. Angry that everyone pretended everything was fine, when clearly it was anything but.

"No, it's not fair," he said, hearing his own pulse beating in his ears. "And I'm right pissed off about it."

Abby stared deep into his eyes. "You have every reason to be," she said, her voice filled with fervour.

Harry leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

"I hope this goes without saying," she said gently. "But you could always talk to me about anything. I know I can be annoying and I ask too many questions, but I promise I'm also a good listener. Any time, any place."

Harry considered her words for a moment. He'd heard them many a time from various people, the invitation to talk. But for the first time, he actually contemplated the idea of accepting the offer. He'd always heard that talking helped, but he just never believed it.

Perhaps he simply hadn't found the right person to talk to.

 _Until now_ , he silently hoped.


	10. Chapter 10

The sound of the alarm going off caused Abby's heart to sink.

_How can it be morning already?_

Lifting the covers over her head, she groaned loudly, wishing just for once that she could have a lie-in. Sleep had evaded her last night as she went to bed with a thousand thoughts swirling chaotically in her mind, nearly all of them having to do with one, oh-so-complicated man named Harry Potter.

She wasn't even sure how she'd managed to sleep a wink after the conversation they'd had. For Christ's sake, Harry was a father! Harry had  _children_. Little human beings depended on Harry for survival.

This concept, no matter how she rearranged and reconstructed it in her mind, was still utterly bewildering.

But just like last night, these thoughts soon led to other, much more sombre ones. Thoughts of Harry and his unimaginable heartache. His troubled eyes, his defeated nature, his antisocial behaviour. It all made sense, in a way.

He'd lost the love of his life at the tender age of twenty-six. A single father of three children at  _twenty-six_ …

"Bloody hell," she breathed, shaking her head as she stared up at the ceiling.

She'd seen what losing a soulmate did to a person. It was a tragedy that she would wish upon no one.

The sound of the alarm going off once again caused an abrupt halt to her thoughts. Leaping out of bed, she rushed to get ready for work.

When Abby entered the kitchen not ten minutes later for a spot of breakfast, she immediately noticed Clara sitting at the table, casually sipping a cup of tea and staring at her with a small, knowing smile.

"What?" Abby said, grabbing a box of cereal.

When the girl remained silent, Abby chose to ignore her and continue eating her breakfast.

"Isn't there something you want to tell me?" Clara said, finally.

"Er...good morning?"

Her flatmate gave her a look that clearly indicated this wasn't what she was referring to.

"Who is he?" Clara said with one eyebrow raised.

"Who?" she said.

"There was  _obviously_ a bloke in here last night. Now, who is he?"

Abby choked slightly on the spoonful of milk she just swallowed. "How could you possibly know that?" she said, her voice coming out in a rasp as she continued to cough.

Clara plastered on that knowing smile once more. "Where to begin…" she said, steepling her fingers together. "The sitting room is much neater than it usually is, and there was an extra mug in the dish rack which means you had company over. And when I sat on the sofa last night, I could definitely pick up the scent of male aftershave. So…who is he?"

Abby stared at her for a moment in disbelief. "Imagine if you used those observational skills for good instead of evil," she said, causing Clara to smirk. "And he's just a friend of mine. So you can wipe that look off your face."

Clara rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Right, 'just a friend'," she said, putting air quotes around the words. "Tell me, this friend of yours…is he fit?"

Abby groaned. "I'm not having this conversation. He really is just a friend, all right?"

"All right," the girl said with a shrug. "So, can I meet him, then?"

"No! Absolutely not," Abby said, cringing at the idea of her even being in the same room as Harry. The horror that would ensue was almost too frightful to think about. "You aren't going anywhere near him."

Clara pretended to pout. "Pity…I'm sure the three of us could have a lot of fun together."

"Right, that's it. I'm going to work," she said, ignoring the suggestive look Clara was trying to give her.

"I only meant as friends!" she called as Abby rushed out the door without another word.

She briskly walked the short trek to the café, knowing she was cutting it close on time thanks to her lovely flatmate. But she was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed her boss wasn't in today.

"Hiya, Mags," she greeted her fellow co-worker who smiled at her in return.

It was a rather slow morning as Sunday mornings went, and the two girls took to chatting at a back table about such things as the lovely spring weather they were having to Maggie's relationship problems to Abby's decision to grow her hair out longer. It wasn't exactly riveting conversation, but it helped pass the time.

Abby was intently building a small tower of creamers when Maggie nudged her gently causing the whole thing to topple over.

"What?" she said, feeling slightly miffed.

"Your boyfriend's here," Maggie said with a sly look.

Abby snorted loudly, expecting to find some old geezer with no teeth waiting at the door. However, when she saw Harry taking a seat instead, she whipped back around to face a smiling Maggie.

"Harry's not my boyfriend," she whispered.

"I know," the girl said. "But you want him to be, don't you?"

"What? No!" she said at once. "What gave you that idea?"

Maggie shrugged. "You're always chatting with each other. Which is strange in itself, mind you. He barely ever said a word to anyone before you started working here."

Abby rolled her eyes. "It took me nearly a month to get more than two words out of him. And I was trying really hard," she said. "Anyway, I didn't do it because I fancy him or anything. We're just friends."

 _Why am I having to defend my relationship with Harry to everyone I meet today? s_ he wondered in slight annoyance.

"Whatever you say," Maggie said, folding her arms across her chest. "I just noticed you two are awfully close."

"Yeah, well, it's nothing romantic, I can assure you."

With that, Abby stood up and headed over to Harry's table. She felt slightly nervous seeing him after last night, and sincerely hoped he didn't regret telling her his secret. If it even was a secret...she assumed it was, as it took him nearly three months to tell her. Well, it's not as if he told her many things. But this was quite an important thing, wasn't it?

"Wow…you look like you're thinking  _really_  hard," Harry said.

She suddenly realised that she'd been staring at him. "Sorry," she said with a smile. "How's it going?"

"Fine. You?"

"Better now that you're here," she said honestly, falling into the seat next to him. "I thought my brain was literally going to melt from boredom. No offense to Maggie or anything."

He looked at her blankly.

"You have no idea who Maggie is, do you?" she said.

"Sorry…no. Should I?"

"Seriously? You've been coming here for how long?" Abby said in exasperation. "Maggie is the waitress with long blonde hair who is currently at the back counter probably wondering why I keep saying her name."

He glanced up to where she indicated, then shook his head. "No, I don't think she heard you."

"Oh, good," she said.

She then cleared her throat softly and looked up at him. "Anyway Harry, I wanted to thank you for, you know, hanging out with me yesterday. Doing all the crazy stuff I asked. And also, more importantly…thank you for confiding in me. It means the world, it really does."

"Thank you for listening," he said, causing her to smile softly.

"I meant what I told you," she said. "I'd be willing to listen anytime. I won't ask questions, I won't interrupt… I won't do anything annoying, I promise."

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment. "But can you really promise that? The whole not being annoying bit?"

"Well…let's be realistic. This is still me we're talking about," she said with a laugh.

He smiled in return before folding his arms and glancing out the window.

Abby then perked up as she suddenly remembered something. "Say, do you have any pictures of your kids on you, by any chance?" she said. "I've been dying to see what they look like."

"Not at the moment, no," he said with an apologetic look.

She sighed. "Well, I better see them soon. Preferably live version, but I suppose I could settle for picture form now."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "So, I thought people came to places like this for coffee or dessert or something?"

"You mean you're not here for the scintillating conversation? Well, this is slightly awkward," she said. "I would have shut up months ago if I'd known."

"Don't even tease me," Harry said, causing her to grin before she rushed off to grab his order.

Since she still refused to serve him coffee on Sundays, Abby had taken to surprising him with something new every week. Deciding to play it safe today however, she cut a slice of treacle tart and placed it in front of him.

"Did you add anything weird to it?" he said.

"Not today."

"Promise?"

"Pinkie promise," she said, grabbing his little finger in hers.

"Why are you five?"

"Why are you bothered?"

Harry shook his head before delving into the plate in front of him.

Abby watched him in silence, tapping her fingers lightly against the table and occasionally switching up the rhythm.

"Can you just say whatever's on your mind, please?"

"Where are they now?" she blurted out.

Harry rolled his eyes. "At their grandparents' house. They usually stay the night on Saturdays."

Abby thanked the heavens above that she caught herself before asking if they were his parents. Of course they weren't…his parents were dead.

The thought caused an unpleasant lurch in her stomach. He was no stranger to death, it seemed.

"That's nice," she said with a smile, tracing a little figure eight on the table top.

"Abby," he said after a moment, causing her to look up. "I didn't tell you all that stuff so you could tip-toe around me. I told you because I consider you a friend. So just say whatever is on your mind and ask whatever questions you want to ask. I mean, I'm not saying I'll be able to answer everything, but you don't have to worry about offending me, all right?"

She swallowed thickly and nodded. "I'm sorry…I'm just afraid I'll say something wrong, and then you won't want anything to do with me anymore," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. You've been saying the wrong thing since I first met you, but I still find myself wanting your company. It's rather annoying actually."

Abby couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't sure why, but the words filled her with a sort of happiness she couldn't describe. It was almost like relief, but infinitely stronger.

Perhaps that's what drew her to Harry in the first place. The ability to be completely and wholeheartedly herself. She annoyed him, she bothered him, she got on his last nerve, but it didn't matter. He was still there. She couldn't believe he was still there.

Not being able to hold it any longer, Abby leaned over to wrap him up in a warm hug.

"Oh, for the love of..." Harry said, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought you said you wouldn't be making this a habit."

"I lied," she said, squeezing him tighter.

Suddenly remembering Clara's words from earlier, Abby took a discreet whiff of him and noted that he did, indeed, smell of aftershave. And fabric softener and deodorant and something soapy and clean. How her flatmate was able to pick up on that scent long after he had left, however, was beyond her.

She took one final whiff, finding it quite pleasant, before sitting up straight again. "Sorry," she said with a shrug. "It's these arms, I can't control them when they're in hugging mode."

Abby proceeded to do the robot, repeatedly hitting him across his chest or shoulders while Harry just stared at her with a deadpan expression, causing her to burst into a small fit of giggles.

"I can't decide what's worse," Harry said. "What you're doing, or the fact that you're making yourself laugh while doing it."

"I'm easily amused," she said, dropping her arms to her sides.

"I noticed."

At the sound of the bell tinkling on the door, Abby looked up and failed to suppress a frown. "Oh bugger, I actually have real customers."

"I'm going to head out, anyway," Harry said, reaching into his pocket for a couple of pounds.

She sighed. "All right, but if boredom causes my brain to melt into a pile of goo on the floor, you're the one who has to clean it up."

"Deal."

"Oh, wait! Before you go…" Abby said, producing her note pad and quickly jotting down her number. "I don't expect you to call me or anything. I mean you hardly ever use your mobile anyway. But you know, just for emergencies."

She handed him the slip of paper, and then slowly and discreetly pushed her notepad towards his end of the table. "Your turn," she said with an innocent smile.

Harry begrudgingly picked up the pen and scribbled down his number as well. "I don't expect you to call me or anything," he said, clearly mocking her. "Really, I don't expect it…So don't."

"You're a prat," she said with a smile.

"Thanks," he said, smiling brighter.

Abby watched as he stood up and walked out the door. He saluted her as he passed by the shop window, and she responded in kind before walking over to her new customers.

They were quite a young couple that came in occasionally. Very normal. They wouldn't want her sitting with them when she was bored or letting her choose their orders. She wouldn't share her dreams with them and they wouldn't share their secrets. Yes, they were very normal, indeed.

But she just really preferred the abnormal.

* * *

"So, Harry," Bill said over the steady din of the table. "Will you be making a speech for us tomorrow?"

The noise level dropped a bit as multiple pairs of eyes looked over in his direction.

Harry cleared his throat. "Erm, no. I think I've retired from my speech-making days."

He could see Hermione's shoulders slump a bit out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it and focused back on his dinner. Thankfully, Bill didn't push the subject. Harry really didn't feel like having this conversation again.

He'd spoken a few times at the War Memorial Ceremony that took place every second of May. It had taken much persuasion from many people, including Kingsley, the Minister for Magic himself. According to Hermione, he couldn't very well say no to the Minister. That didn't stop Harry from trying, though.

In the end, it was Ginny who managed to convince him.

After her death, though, many things in life began to seem pointless, and speech-making was definitely one of those things. He just didn't have the heart to do it anymore. And quite frankly, he thought it a feat for him to even show up.

"Do we  _have_ to go to school tomorrow, Dad?" James said later that night as he crawled under the covers.

"We've had this conversation already," Harry said. "The ceremony isn't until six. I'd much rather have you go to school and  _learn_  than sit around here all day and do nothing."

Al grinned at his brother from his side of the room. "Told you so," he said with a smug look.

"I already knew the answer. I was just asking anyway," James said, crossing his arms.

"Well, that's stupid."

"Yeah, just like your face," James said, throwing a well-aimed pillow at him and causing the boy to immediately erupt in protest.

"Dad!"

"He started it!" James said at once.

"I didn't even say anything!"

"It was the  _way_ you said it!"

"You hit my eye!"

"GOOD!"

"All right, enough!" Harry said just loud enough to carry over their shouts.

"But  _Dad!_ " they said together.

Harry sighed, rubbing his temple tiredly. "In this house, we treat each other with respect and we don't shout," he said, looking them both in the eye with a stern expression. "James, don't throw things at your brother. Albus, don't give attitude. Do I make myself clear?"

Both boys grumbled quietly to themselves as they glanced away from him.

"Excellent. Now, if we could just have one night without any fighting, that would be lovely," he said.

"Daddy?" said a quiet voice in the doorway.

Harry exhaled heavily, closing his eyes for a moment in defeat. "What are you doing awake, flower?" he said, as she padded her way into the room with her footed pyjamas and climbed onto his lap.

"I heard shouting," she said, curling up against him with her stuffed hippogriff clutched firmly in her hand.

James and Al immediately groaned, very much aware that Lily had just gotten them into even more trouble.

"Well?" Harry said, looking between them. "Do you have something to say to your sister?"

"No," James muttered, playing a loose thread on his bed sheet.

A small grin appeared on Al's face which he attempted to cover up with his hand.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, his eyebrows raised. "I'm not sure I heard you, correctly."

James sighed and looked up at Lily. "Sorry."

"Sorry, Lils," Al followed.

She giggled, as if the whole idea of her older brothers apologising to her was silly.

"Wonderful," Harry said with a sigh as he stood up with Lily in his arms. "What do you say, Lils, should we kiss them goodnight?"

She nodded enthusiastically in response.

Harry walked up to James and leant down to kiss him. "Goodnight, you little Marauder," he said, causing the boy's face to split in a wide grin.

Lily placed a kiss on his forehead, too before Harry walked them over to Albus. "And goodnight, you wise little warlock," he whispered, causing Al to giggle before he received his kisses as well.

"Love you," Harry said quietly, extinguishing the lights with his wand as he walked towards the door.

Murmurs of 'love you too, Dad' could be heard as he closed the door behind him and walked into the corridor with a sleepy Lily in his arms.

"What am I, Daddy?" she said, as he placed her gently in her bed.

"Hmm?"

"Jamie's a marder and Alby's a warlock," she said. "What am I?"

Harry smiled warmly, brushing her bright red locks from her eyes. "You're my little flower, of course," he said, bending down to attack her cheeks with kisses.

The sound of her laughter tickled at his very heart. It was the sweetest and most delightful of melodies, and it never failed to make everything else in the world just disappear.

"I love you, Lils," he whispered. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

When Harry entered the house the next morning after dropping the kids off at school, he immediately noticed the pair of shoes placed neatly next to the door.

"Hermione?" he called out loudly.

"Up here!" said a muffled voice.

He headed over to the staircase and spotted her walking down the steps, levitating a large laundry basket in front of her.

"Really?"

She smiled innocently at him. "I thought I'd stop by seeing as we're both free today."

"What and you got bored?" he said.

"See...I accidentally stepped on one of Lily's toys when I flooed in, so I started to tidy up a bit, and then, well…one thing led to another, I suppose," she said as he followed her into the utility room. "You don't mind, do you? It's just that I noticed the pile of clothes was rather large."

"I was going to get around to it."

"I'm sure you would have," she said in that slightly patronising way that only Hermione could perfect. "I know you hate doing laundry, but if you wait any longer, the kids might have to go starkers."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, do you want anything to drink?" he said, knowing there was no point in arguing.

"I just put the kettle on, actually," she said.

"Of course you did," he said, heading toward the kitchen.

He rarely got offended by anything Hermione did anymore, no matter how overbearing. After all, she'd been doing things for him since he was eleven. But that didn't stop the slight irritation he felt whenever she claimed that certain things just needed a ' _woman's touch'_. Whatever that meant. His depraved man's touch seemed to suffice just fine, in his humble opinion.

Adding a bit of extra sugar in her mug just to annoy her, Harry set off in the direction he came from. When he reached the open doorway, however, he froze in his step.

Hermione, having just emptied out his trouser pockets, was holding a slip of paper in her hand and staring at it curiously. He watched her place it on the washing machine behind her and eyeing it for a moment before returning to her task.

Harry leant back against the wall and mentally cursed. She'd found Abby's number. He couldn't remember if she had actually written her name on it or not, but what were the odds that a man would give him his telephone number? No, Hermione would know it was a woman. And she would wonder, as she was most likely doing now, why he hadn't just binned it straight away.

Before she could see him, he hastily retreated back to the kitchen, wanting to delay this conversation for as long as possible. What was he going to tell her? Would Hermione understand? He always knew he would have to explain to his family eventually, but not now… not when he was only just beginning to see Abby as a real friend.

Harry dropped into a chair and stared intently at his cup of tea without really seeing it. It was strange. He felt a bit like a student in trouble with his professor—a pretty accurate depiction of his relationship with Hermione, in general.

He heard a throat clear at the door and looked up to see her walk in with a small smile on her face. "Tea?" she said.

Harry passed her mug over as she sat down across from him. He saw her cringe slightly at the sweet taste, but she didn't say anything. Indeed, they both sat in silence for quite a while before he finally spoke up.

"So, how are the kids?" he said.

"Fine," she said, nodding. "Yeah, they're erm…"

"Fine?"

"Exactly," she said.

He was just waiting for her to finally burst and ask him what he knew she was dying to ask him. He figured it would be any second now. Hermione wasn't exactly known for her self-restraint.

"So Harry, I, erm…well I found something while doing laundry. I wasn't sure if you wanted it, so I just left it on the washing machine," she said in a casual voice. Too casual.

Harry mentally high-fived himself for calling it. "What did you find?" he said, taking a sip of his tea and pretending to look confused.

"Erm, well it—it looked like a telephone number," she said hesitantly.

"Looked like?"

Hermione threw him an annoyed look. "It  _was_."

He exhaled then and leaned back against his chair. "And I assume you want to know whose it is?"

"Abby," she said quietly, looking up at him. "That's what it said. Who's Abby?"

Harry didn't respond right away. "Why does it matter?"

Hermione sighed in frustration. "It matters, Harry. Let's be honest here, this isn't the first time a woman has given you her number before. And normally you'd just throw it away, not carry it around in your pocket. Whoever this Abby person is, she's obviously close to you," she said.

"Who is she?" Hermione added in a much gentler voice.

He squirmed a bit under her gaze, suddenly feeling pity for Rose and Hugo…and Ron.

"She's…she's someone—a friend. She's a muggle. Doesn't know who I am, obviously," he said.

Hermione creased her eyebrows as if concentrating on a difficult problem. "Where did you meet her?"

"Well, before I pick up Lily from school, I usually go to a shop nearby for some coffee. You know I don't like sitting in the cafeteria at the Ministry anymore," he told her to which she nodded in understanding. "Anyway, she works there as a waitress."

"And you just…became friends?"

Harry laughed slightly at the thought. "Not exactly, no. She tried for a long time to get me to talk—she's quite chatty," he said. "But obviously I wasn't so willing."

Hermione sat there listening with rapt attention. She didn't interject, so he figured she wanted him to continue.

"Er...I dunno. I've known her for a while now. I suppose I just grew more comfortable and started talking to her a bit. She's funny and sort of weird," he said. "And she doesn't know who I am…which is nice."

"And do you—what I mean to say is—Harry, do you fancy her?" Hermione said, barely above a whisper.

"What? No. God, no," he said, shaking his head. "See, this is why I never told anyone. You'd all just jump to conclusions."

"I'm sorry, okay. I had to ask," she said trying to placate him. "But Harry, even if you did—"

"I don't."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I know. But even if you  _did…_ that would be okay, too," she said, looking him in the eye. "No one expects you to be alone forever. Not even the Weasleys."

Harry felt something akin to an iron-clad grip seize around his heart. Something about the idea of other people, his own family, expecting him to fall in love again one day just made him uneasy. Did they already forget that he'd fallen in love once? Ginny was his soulmate. Did that mean nothing to them? Ginny was…she was…she was  _his Ginny._

He shut his eyes, feeling that familiar sensation of drowning. They didn't understand, nobody understood.

"Harry," Hermione said carefully, laying a hand gently on his arm.

He refused to look up at her. "I'm just going to go jump in the shower," he told her in a strained voice, turning around without another glance and heading up the stairs.

He did just that, taking an extra long time underneath the hot water and letting it soothe the muscles of his back. The steam seemed to help clear his head a bit, and he suddenly felt guilty for leaving Hermione in such an abrupt manner.

Of course she would ask if he had feelings for Abby, any person would. But the idea just felt so bizarre. He simply could not imagine himself with any other woman. He didn't  _want_ to. Did that make him strange somehow? Was it normal for people to fall in love again after the death of a wife or husband?

Who could he possibly ask about that? His parents had died together. Remus and Tonks had died together. With a sudden jolt, the answer finally came to him.

_Andromeda._

Andi would understand. She'd understood from the very beginning when nobody else could.

Harry breathed in and out deeply, finally feeling some sense of reassurance. He would ask her about it. Not tonight, but soon. He wasn't exactly planning on any major changes in his life to occur in the next couple of days, but perhaps it would be good to share his thoughts if only for the mere satisfaction of knowing he wasn't alone.

After stepping out of the shower, he got dressed quickly, using his wand to dry his hair and causing it to stick at odd angles as usual. But there was nothing he could do for it. Once he was finished, Harry dashed down the steps and was relieved to find that Hermione hadn't left.

She was curled up on the sofa reading a book, and he walked over to her. "Hey."

She looked up and gave him a small smile. "Hey."

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, budge over, then," he said.

Hermione smiled brighter this time and moved to the other end to let him sit. "Are you feeling better?" she said.

He leaned forward against his knees and nodded. "I'm sorry about before."

"I'm the one who should be apologising," she said, closing her book and sitting up straight. "You told me she was just your friend, and I should've taken your word for it."

He only shrugged in response.

"I just…" Hermione paused, as if searching for the right words. "Maybe I hoped…I just don't want you to be alone forever."

She took one of his hands in hers and clasped it tightly. "It doesn't mean you have to let Ginny go. The heart is capable of an infinite amount of love, Harry. Just remember that."

He looked up into her warm brown eyes. "How long did it take you to come with that line, then?" he said in amusement.

Hermione let out a small laugh. "The entire time you were upstairs," she said."Good though, isn't it?"

"It was all right," he said with shrug, sounding unimpressed.

She gave him a mock-glare before breaking out into a smile.

"Hermione," he said, suddenly. "Could I get your advice on something?"

"Of course," she said, giving him her full attention.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and leant back against the sofa. "Well, I only just recently told Abby about the kids, and now she really wants to meet them. But, I dunno…what would I tell them? I just feel like it would be weird somehow."

"You're really considering it?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I mean, I'm not saying it's a bad idea. I just never thought—well, what with your overprotectiveness—"

"I'm not overprotective," Harry said, snapping his head towards her.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "Just that you're protective over your kids when it comes to strangers, is all."

"Well, I'd like to think so, yeah," he said, with a bit of an affronted tone. "Anyway, that's just the thing. She's not really a stranger anymore, is she? I mean, I've known her for a while now. I've even hung out with her a couple of times."

"You  _what_?" Hermione said, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wow...I never thought I'd see the day where you'd do something social with someone besides me or Ron."

"Yeah, you're hilarious," he said as she chuckled at her own joke.

"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "It's just strange to think about. She must be something, then, eh?"

Harry considered this for a moment. "She's definitely…something," he said.

Hermione smiled softly at him. "I'm happy for you, Harry. I know it's not easy for people to gain your trust. But this Abby seems well on her way. I'd quite like to meet her someday, if that's all right with you."

"Yeah, of course," he said, feeling more relieved than he thought he would at Hermione's acceptance.

"As for the kids," she added. "For now at least, I think it's best if you bring them to her, instead of her to them. Take them to the café with you sometime. It would be perfectly normal, and I'm sure they'd appreciate the desserts."

Harry nodded as he considered it. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Hermione then leaned over to give him a warm embrace which he returned somewhat awkwardly. "What's this for?" he said, patting her back.

"You just looked like you needed to be hugged," she said into his shoulder.

"Can you describe this look so I can avoid it in future?"

Hermione pinched his arm rather painfully before standing up. "You're such a prat," she said. "I'm leaving."

"Hey, you're not going anywhere," Harry said, throwing up his legs on the table in front of him. "That laundry isn't going to do itself."

"In your dreams, Potter," she called behind her as she stepped into the grate. "I'll see you tonight. Try and look presentable."

"You as well, eh?" he called back, smiling at his own joke.

* * *

"Dad! Can you do up my laces? They're not working," Al whined.

"How are they not working?" James said. "You're the one that's not working."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

James merely pushed his brother aside. "Dad, I can't find my bow tie. I looked  _everywhere_."

"Ouch! Daddy that hurt," Lily said, glaring at him in the mirror.

Harry groaned, deciding to forgo the brush altogether and comb her hair through with his fingers.

"Dad, did you hear me?"

" _Dad!"_

"Yes, all right,  _all right!"_ Harry said. "Just give me one second."

He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, putting all his concentration into neatly tying the top half of Lily's hair with the flowery hair band.

"How does it look?" he asked James, who was sitting next to him on the bed.

"How should I know?" the boy said with a shrug.

"I think it looks fine," Al said. "Nana or Grandmum can always fix it later."

"Good point," Harry said. "Okay Lils, you're all set. Please,  _please_  stay exactly as you are until we have to leave."

Lily nodded eagerly before running out of the room, and he sighed, knowing his pleas would go unheard.

When Harry turned back around, the boys immediately erupted with their demands once more. It was his own fault, really. Whenever they had to go anywhere, chaos would ensue in the Potter household, and even though he swore each time that he would start them getting ready earlier, he never actually followed through.

By the time they were all fully dressed, they only had a few minutes to spare for the portkey.

"Everyone touching it?" Harry asked for probably the fourth time. "Don't let go until we reach."

The uncomfortable sensation of being jerked in the navel swept through each of them until they were deposited haphazardly outside the castle grounds.

He could see small groups of people walking ahead of them and some still arriving behind. It was a rather pleasant spring day. The air was mild and breezy and the sun was still high up in the sky.

"Dad, do you think we'll get to see Teddy?" Al said from his side.

"Not sure," he said. "Only 6th and 7th years usually attend the ceremony."

"Can we sneak up to see him, then?" James said, his eyes alight with mischief.

Harry chuckled. "We'll see," he said with a wink.

When they reached the Great Hall, he could immediately spot the Weasleys and headed over in their direction, trying his very best to avoid eye contact with anyone else.

He'd always shunned the public eye to a certain extent, but ever since Ginny's death, he avoided it like the plague. Reporters just ate up the tragic story of the Boy-Who-Lived. Ate it up and spit it out for all the world to see. It sickened him more than anything that had ever been written about him before.

After they had greeted the rest of the family, Harry took a seat next to Ron with Lily on his other side.

"Mr. Potter."

He looked up to see a man he vaguely recognised from the Ministry.

"Will you be speaking for us tonight, I hope?" he said, reaching over to shake his hand.

"I won't, no. Sorry," Harry said, trying to sound more apologetic than he felt.

"Shame, that," another woman said, having overheard the conversation. "Perhaps next year, then? Mr. Welby and I always did enjoy your speeches, Mr. Potter. "

The man on her arm grunted in agreement, nodding his head respectfully toward Harry before pulling his wife away.

"Mr. and Mrs. Welby have you convinced yet, mate? Thinking of heading up to the stage?" Ron said with a grin.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, Kingsley's going to have a hard time holding me back," he said.

"Honestly you two, they were just being polite," Hermione hissed from Ron's other side. "You always  _did_ give good speeches, Harry."

He rolled his eyes at her. "You practically wrote every single one."

"No, I gave you talking points," she said, holding up her finger. "There's a difference."

"Whatever."

But the Welbys weren't the last to approach him, nor were they the first. Every year, multitudes of people came up to him at various points in the night, some to thank him, others to ask about his welfare, some to simply greet him. He didn't mind it, really. Overall, they were pleasant people who simply wanted to show their appreciation for what he'd done. He still felt sort of awkward though when men and women who were clearly much older than him treated him with an obnoxious level of respect. Harry honestly didn't think he deserved it much, but there was no point in making that argument again.

Kingsley gave the main speech that night, honouring all those who fought in the war, both dead and living. And inspiring everyone to continue toward the betterment of the Wizarding world. That was the main gist of it, anyway. There was really only so much one could say without repeating themselves every year.

"…And finally, may we always remember that the strength of our society remains in the hands of the youth. We need not look any further than our own Mr. Harry Potter, who defeated one of the greatest dark wizards this world has ever known, at the tender age of seventeen—"

Kingsley paused as a thunder of applause broke out within the Hall.

Harry felt George lean forward and ruffle his hair from behind him, causing Angelina to smack him on the arm and mutter something that sounded like  _'it's already messy enough!'_

But Harry was grateful to him as he was never really quite sure what to do during moments like these. He'd usually just shift his eyes around with an awkward half-smile on his face, waiting desperately for everyone to stop clapping.

He exhaled in relief when the attention was finally averted back to Kingsley.

"Daddy, did he just say your name?" Lily whispered.

A large grin split across his face. "Nah, I think it was someone else," he whispered back.

* * *

Harry was standing near the entrance of the Great Hall during the reception, very much ready to make a quick escape. But something out of the corner of his eye made him glance suspiciously at the large oak doors. He was currently in the middle of a one-sided conversation with a fellow Auror by the name of Ellsworth who seemed very adamant about reopening a three-year old case.

"You know what," Harry said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Have it on my desk by Friday, I'll look into it."

With that, he turned around and walked away, hoping that nobody would follow him. When he reached the door, he leant against it casually with a smirk on his face.

"How'd you know?" cried an exasperated voice.

The face of Teddy Lupin materialised before Harry's eyes, turquoise hair and all.

"Auror skills," he said, causing the boy to roll his eyes. "And I saw the door move."

"How could you possibly have seen that? You weren't even facing my direction," Teddy said, fully removing the Invisibility Cloak from around his body.

"Peripheral vision," Harry said with a shrug. "Just face it, Ted. You're never going to be able to pull one on me, so you might as well quit trying."

Teddy scowled for a moment before his face melted into a wide grin, and he rushed into his Harry's waiting arms for a hug.

"You know I'm only doing this because no one can see us," Teddy said in a muffled voice.

"Shh," Harry said, caressing his hair. "No need for lies."

Teddy laughed heartily as the two of them sat down on a bench in the Entrance Hall.

"How are you holding up today?" Harry said, turning his head to look at him.

"Fine," the boy shrugged. "Sort of rubbish how I can't go to the ceremony even though it's my parents who are being honoured. But Minnie won't budge."

"You're not missing out on much, to be honest. Kingsley pretty much says the same speech every year," Harry said. "And stop calling her 'Minnie', she's going to think I taught you that."

"Yeah and Merlin forbid you drop down from the pedestal she keeps you on," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Oi, you," Harry said, trying to sound menacing. "It took me years to get on that pedestal."

Teddy snorted loudly before getting up to take a peek inside the Hall. "Where are the little buggers, then?"

"Nowhere near you, if you use that kind of language."

"Sorry, where are your  _darling_ children, Mr. Potter?" he said, sounding very much like a proper old English woman.

"They're in that far corner over there. Come on, put the Cloak on so Minnie doesn't see you," he said, causing Teddy to grin.

Harry turned around and led the way, smiling softly. Sitting through hours of awkward conversation and uncomfortable attention wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. But it was more than worth it every year just to have these few brief moments with his godson.

"So worth it," Harry said quietly as he watched his kids squeal with delight at the sight of their favourite colourful godbrother.


	11. Chapter 11

_All of the windows in the house were open. The early autumn breeze was causing a gentle ripple across the_ _curtains. He descended the steps and inhaled deeply, finding the scent of the outside air rather invigorating._

" _Anything interesting?" he said, seeing Ginny sitting at the kitchen table, thumbing through various letters that had just arrived in the post._

_She glanced up and gave him a sly look. "Funny you should ask," she said. "Guess who just got invited to play in the Celebrity All-Star match?"_

_Harry pretended to think hard about it for a moment. "Me?"_

_She giggled lightly, tossing a crumpled up envelope at his face._

" _Are you going to do it?" Harry said eagerly, peeking over her shoulder to read the letter._

_She shrugged. "I dunno, I suppose it might be fun. It's only one game, after all…And it would be nice to be back in the air again, hearing the sound of the crowd and feeling that rush of excitement…"_

_She paused for a moment as if recalling a fond memory. There was a small smile on her face and a familiar twinkle in her chocolate brown eyes._

" _Oh, who am I kidding," she said. "Of course I'm going to do it!"_

_Harry grinned._

_Of course…_

_He glanced around the room._

_The air was growing colder…_

_The sky was dark. The windows were shut. Why was it so cold?_

_He wasn't in the kitchen anymore. It didn't seem like he was anywhere anymore._

_But he could still hear her voice…_

_Where was she?_

" _Ginny?" he called loudly. "Ginny?"_

" _Of course…"_

" _GINNY?"_

" _Dad?"_

_Harry whipped around to see who was there, but he didn't find anyone._

" _Dad!"_

"Dad, can you hear me?"

"Dad!"

Harry sat bolt upright, breathing heavily. He squinted in the darkness and saw James standing beside the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you up—I tried—I wasn't sure what to do," the boy spluttered, looking up at Harry with worry in his eyes.

"What is it, what's the matter?" Harry said, the remnants of his dream quickly dissipating as he grabbed his son's shoulders in fear.

"It's Al," James said. "Something's wrong—"

Before he could even finish, Harry had already leapt out of bed and rushed towards the boys' room where he could hear shouts emanating from within. Al was thrashing about aggressively in his bed. His eyes were open and blank as he mumbled incoherently.

Harry took in a shuddering breath. It was a night terror. Al had had them a handful of times before, but it hadn't occurred in a while.

He placed a quick silencing charm around the room, and turned to see James standing in the doorway looking utterly terrified.

"James, could you go to my room, please?" Harry said, speaking in a much calmer voice than he felt. "He's going to be fine, I promise. It's just a nightmare."

But James stood rooted to the spot, staring at his brother who continued to shout sporadically.

"James, my room  _now!_ " Harry repeated as he attempted to hold Al's body down so the boy wouldn't hurt himself.

"Mummy _…"_

Harry whipped his head back around, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Tears were beginning to leak from the younger boy's eyes as they continued to stare blankly at the ceiling.

"Mummy… _help!"_

Al yelled out once more, his face turning red and beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. His whole body felt warm to the touch as if he were running a fever.

" _Mummy…"_

Harry knew from experience that there was nothing he could do when his son was in a state like this. The healer had said so herself. He wasn't supposed to wake him, for apparently that would just make matters worse. He could only wait it out. Just hold him close and wait it out. Al wasn't aware of anything. He wouldn't even remember this in the morning.

But Harry was aware. Harry would remember.

Another shout filled the room.

"You're okay, shh, you're okay," he said into the boy's hair.

"Mummy…please…"

His movements were getting more violent, and he kicked off his sheets, hitting Harry in the side and chest multiple times.

"Come on, Alby…you're okay," he whispered, willing for it to be over. "Please, just…just be okay…"

Al went back to mumbling for a while as he tossed and turned in his bed. He then let out one final yell of agony that caused the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand.

And just like that, he was asleep again.

Harry stumbled backwards, the back of his legs colliding with James' bed as he fell onto it. His heart was beating furiously in his chest. He grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and let out a violent sob that had been brewing in his chest since the start. Tears were now falling freely from his eyes, blurring his vision. He tried his best to be silent so as not to wake Albus, but it was as if he could no longer control his body.

It was too much. It was all too much.

Harry left the room and practically ran down the stairs. When he reached the study, he closed the door behind him and slid to the floor.

Now that he was able to emit his pent up emotions freely, it seemed as if the tears would never stop. It had been a while since he'd cried so hard for so long. But he couldn't help it. Witnessing Al's night terrors had always been horrific, but the two or three times it had occurred before, Ginny had been by his side. They'd gotten through it together. Just like they'd gotten through everything together.

Hearing Al's pleas for her made his very blood turn cold. The healer had told them to disregard anything that was said during an episode, but none of that mattered. Because night terror or night, Harry knew that his son still ached for his mother.

And he couldn't give him that. He couldn't give him his mother.

He slammed his fist angrily against the wall, revelling slightly in the pain that flared up in his hand. It made him forget for just a second where the real hurt was coming from.

Standing up somewhat unsteadily, he walked over to his desk and took one of the picture frames in his hands, collapsing into his chair as he gazed at her.

Ginny was laughing at something not visible in the frame, completely oblivious to him as he stared at her with longing eyes. God, he loved her laugh. It was always so loud and boisterous, completely unapologetic. Molly would sometimes reprimand her for it, telling her she needed to be a bit more lady-like.

" _Well then, luckily I'm not a Lady,"_ she would respond, causing her mother to huff in exasperation.

Harry smiled softly, hearing her voice in his head as clear as if she were sitting right beside him. He placed a finger to the glass, tracing the outline of her face, the spattering of her freckles just barely visible in the photograph. He'd been dreaming about her before James woke him up, but he couldn't really remember the details. It was something vague, some random memory from long ago. But it didn't really matter. He was just glad it hadn't ended with her lifeless form in his arms as his dreams of her often did.

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there, gazing intently at the frame. But when he finally returned to his room, he found James fast asleep in his bed. He sighed, knowing that he would have to talk to him about what happened tomorrow. He couldn't even imagine what must have been going through the boy's mind when he tried and failed to shake his brother awake.

Harry's heart twisted painfully at the thought. He just prayed that it would never happen again.

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning, feeling a strange weight on his chest. He leaned up against his elbows and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, looking down to see one of James' legs splayed across him. He also noted that the covers had somehow completely migrated to the other side of the bed during the night.

He carefully extracted himself and stepped into the bathroom to have a quick shower before waking the kids up. An interesting day lay ahead of him, there was no doubt about that. Lily's school was having a teacher training day, and rather than leave her with Molly or Andi, he decided he'd rather take her to work with him. She tended to get fussy if she was alone for too long without anyone to play with. And while both women tried to keep her entertained, she simply exuded too much energy for them to keep up at times. Not that either of them would ever admit it, of course.

After drying himself off and getting dressed, he headed over to his room to begin the dreaded waking process.

"James," he said, knocking loudly on the door-frame. "Come on, time to get up, mate."

There was no response, as usual.

"James," Harry tried again, this time being met with a faint groan.

"Do I need to pull the covers off?" he said.

The boy only groaned louder.

"All right, here I go," Harry said, pulling out his wand. "Any second now…"

No movement.

"You've got one last chance…No? Okay then, you asked for it!"

Harry levitated the covers off him and onto the floor causing an instant cry of " _Dad!_ "

James immediately curled up into a ball, attempting to regain the warmth he'd just lost and whinging on about the 'unfairness' of it all.

"If you're not out of this bed by the time I get back, it'll be water next," Harry said, before heading over to the boys' room where Al was still sleeping alone.

He sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, taking in the peaceful features on his son's face that were such a stark contrast to the night before. He ran a hand gently through the boy's messy locks, smiling fondly when his small nose scrunched up at the touch.

"Alby," he said softly. "It's time to wake up."

Emerald green eyes opened sleepily in response.

"Hey, kiddo," Harry said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Al said, squinting up at him in confusion. "Why?"

"No reason," he said, placing a kiss on the boy's head in relief.

Al stared at him for a moment before taking in the empty bed next to him. "Where's James? He's not actually up already, is he?"

"Er…yeah, he is. I saw him in my room last, let me make sure he hasn't fallen back asleep again," Harry said.

It wasn't  _really_  a lie, he mused as he returned back to his room to see that James had indeed fallen back asleep. Harry just figured there was no point in telling him. What if he became afraid to fall asleep again? No, it was best to just let it be for now. He was hoping this was just some sort of fluke.

Harry rolled his eyes when a soft snore suddenly met his ears. "James, if you don't wake up right this second, I'm going to set Lily on you."

When his words were met with no response, Harry stalked resolutely into the corridor and headed straight for the final door at the end.

"Flower?" he said, opening the door to see Lily already awake and attempting to make her bed.

"Morning, Daddy!" she said. "Look, I pickeded out my clothes to go to work with you today!"

Harry smiled brightly. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he said, picking her up sideways and placing a kiss on her nose and then one on each cheek. She giggled and nodded her head.

"Good," he said. "Now, I have a job for you. Jamie's in my room and he's being a big sleepyhead. Can you wake him for me?"

"Yeah!" she said, her eyes going wide with excitement.

Harry released her from his arms and watched her run away before following behind her into his room. She hopped up on the bed and started jumping on the mattress.

"Wake up, Jamie! WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP!"

James stuffed his head under the pillow, refusing to acknowledge her, but Lily wouldn't give in. She could be as stubborn as a mule.

 _Very much like her mother,_ Harry thought with a small smile, observing the scene in amusement.

"Do you think she'll break him?" Al asked, appearing in the doorway as they both watched Lily climb onto her brother's back.

"Possibly."

" _Ow!_ Lily, GET OFF!" James yelled, trying and failing to raise himself up.

"You're 'posed to wake up. Daddy said so!" she shouted back.

"Well, if you haven't already noticed, I'm awake. Now get off!"

"I think you're job here is done, Lils. Good work," Harry said, giving her a thumbs up.

James huffed in exasperation as he clambered out of bed. "If you weren't a little pipsqueak, I'd smack you with this pillow," he said, causing her to stuck her tongue out at him.

"All right, all right! I'd really fancy it if we were on time today. So let's go, everyone get dressed," Harry said, pushing them out of the room one by one.

Once they were all dressed and seated around the kitchen table, breakfast carried on rather peacefully.

 _A little too peacefully,_ Harry thought, watching the boys eat in relative silence. Al was about to reach over for the milk carton when James immediately grabbed it for him and placed it by his side.

"Thanks…" Al said, a clear look of confusion on his face.

Harry, Al, and even Lily then watched in awe as James proceeded to pour a bowl of cereal for him.

"Is that enough milk?" James asked, oblivious to the shocked silence around him.

"Yeah," Al said. "Erm...did Lily hit you too hard on the head or something?"

"What?"

"James, can I talk to you alone for a second?" Harry said, motioning his head toward the door.

"What did I do?" the boy asked once they were seated on the couch.

"Nothing," Harry said. "I was just wondering if there was reason behind your new behaviour towards your brother. I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate it immensely and I'm sure he does too, but…"

James merely shrugged in response, staring intently at his trainers.

"Does this have anything to do with last night?"

He shrugged again.

"I know it was scary," Harry said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But sometimes it happens to people. It's like a nightmare, except Al won't really remember anything about it."

"He won't remember?" James said, looking up at him.

"No. The same thing happened a few times when he was much younger."

James seemed to relax slightly at this. "But it was like he was awake…his eyes were open…and he kept shouting." He paused, looking back down at his shoes. "And he kept calling for Mum."

Harry let out a small sigh. "I know," he said. "But none of it was real. It was sort of like a dream only he wasn't really seeing anything."

James looked a bit confused, but nodded his head nonetheless. "Do you think it'll happen again?" he said.

"I think it's unlikely, but I suppose it could," Harry said. "No matter what, though, it's not hurting him. So you don't have to worry."

He nodded once more, looking thoughtful. "Does this mean everything can go back to normal, then?" he said. "Cause it's  _beyond_  brutal having to be nice to him."

Harry chuckled, ruffling up the boy's hair and steering him back into the kitchen.

* * *

" _Lily!_ " Harry hissed, beckoning her over. "What did I tell you about wandering off?"

"Not to?"

He shook his head and took a firm hold of her hand as they walked into the lift amidst a large group of witches and wizards. When they arrived on the second floor, Harry squeezed through everyone with Lily in tow. She was taking in all her surroundings with keen interest, her head moving in every direction and her eyes wide.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," his secretary greeted, before doing a double take. "And who is this?"

Anna walked around her desk and leaned down to shake the Lily's hand.

"I'm Lily," the girl said with a bright smile.

"It's very nice to meet you, Lily. Did you come to help your daddy with his job today?"

She nodded with her eyebrows raised. "Yeah, cause I'm going to be a aura."

"Aur _or_ ," Harry told her quietly.

Anna laughed before straigtening back up. "If you need me to watch her at all during the day, I would be happy to, Mr. Potter. I love children," she said.

He smiled and nodded his head. "Thanks, Anna, I appreciate it," he said.

Harry knew that his students would be surprised that he'd brought a guest, but the chaos that ensued when he and Lily stepped into the room was very much unexpected. Some of the females in the class emitted high-pitched squeals at the sight of her. Being Auror-trainees, they were usually quite composed and focused, and this new side to them amused him.

Lily, of course, was practically flourishing with all the attention. She was rather the social butterfly.

"Can we keep her?" a girl named Jessie said at once.

"No, cause I have to go to school every day," Lily said matter-of-factly. "Right, Daddy?"

"Right, flower," he replied automatically, instantly regretting it when they all 'aww-ed' in unison.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know you do have to learn today," he said. "And if you can't focus, then I'll have someone watch over her until the lesson is done."

He was met with many soft groans and disappointed looks, but they all conceded eventually and returned back to their seats.

Lily sat at his desk with her colouring book for the rest of the class, swinging her legs back and forth and minding her own business. When the lecture was over, Harry wasn't surprised to see a few girls hang back and crowd around the desk.

"Can I braid your hair, Lily?"

The little girl's eyes immediately went wide. "Yes,  _please,"_ she said. Then in a soft voice she added: "Daddy doesn't know how."

He heard several snickers, but paid them no mind. As long as Lily was enjoying herself, he could take the hits to his pride.

Harry chuckled at the sight of them all as he led the group back through the corridors.

"We'll be in the conference room!" Lisa Rowland, the rowdiest of the bunch, announced once they reached the main area. She took Lily's hand and guided her away before he could even respond.

"Bring her back when you're finished," he called out, shaking his head and returning to his office.

He sat down in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he shuffled through the mess on his desk. He didn't really consider himself a disorganised person, but anyone stepping into his office would probably beg to differ. Anna had offered multiple times to straighten things up for him, but he wholeheartedly refused. She was his secretary, not his maid. And he didn't appreciate people treating her as such.

Anna was a sweet girl, barely out of Hogwarts, who got her work done efficiently and minded her own business. In other words, she was a perfect fit for him. Harry sniffed in amusement as he remembered the look of utter terror on her face when she'd been assigned to him. For the first couple of weeks she'd barely even made eye contact. Even after two years, he was still trying to get her to call him by his first name.

The sound of the door opening brought a halt to Harry's thoughts. He gritted his teeth in an almost conditioned response and looked up.

"I  _really_ wish you'd knock just once in your life."

"Why?" Davis said, walking in. "Afraid you'll be caught in a comprising position?"

"What do you want?" he said, trying to contain his irritation.

"You were right about Ellsworth," she said, taking a seat and throwing him the file in her hands.

Harry caught it deftly and opened it up, glancing quickly over the report.

"He was wasting his time. There's reason to believe some of the original evidence had been fabricated," Tracey said. "But he sent it down to DM and apparently it was a false claim."

"Which Unspeakable cleared it?"

"Roth, I believe," she said.

Harry ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly as he looked over some of the details. "And can you explain to me why Ellsworth is taking these claims seriously?"

"Dunno, Potter. Maybe try asking him," she said.

He rubbed a hand against his face and took in a deep breath. "Davis, it's your job to brief me on these sort of things. You're a team leader now, no more messing about," he said.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance but didn't say anything.

"Right, well, if that's all," he said, making a shooing motion with his hands.

"What, you don't fancy a chat?" Tracey said.

"As appealing as that sounds, no," Harry said. "I'm a bit swamped, you see."

She put on a look of disappointment. "Shame, that," she said, heading toward the door.

Before she could open it, however, a little ball of ginger hair burst into the room and ran right past her. Lily bounced up and down as she attempted to explain everything that had occurred within the last half hour to him.

"What…is  _that?"_ Tracey said, eyeing Lily with something akin to horror on her features.

Harry sighed and looked up at the woman. "This is a child, Davis," he said slowly. "I believe you were one, once. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you just entered this world as your fully mature and bitter self. I can't say I'd be surprised."

She sneered at him, before looking back down at the girl.

"Introduce yourself to the nice lady, Lily," Harry said, pushing her forward gently.

"Hi…I'm Lily…and I'm four," she said, staring up at the towering figure.

Tracey looked over at him and scowled as he grinned in amusement.

"Pleasure," she said, loosely shaking the girl's proffered hand.

"You have pretty hair," Lily said with a smile. "It's yellow."

"It's not yellow, it's golden blonde," she said, crossing her arms.

"It's yellow."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Potter, your offspring is just as just as infuriating as you are," Tracey said.

Harry picked Lily up and set her on the desk in front of him. "You've got to admit she's pretty cute though, right?" he said, as they both plastered on identical grins.

She stared at him with her lip curled. "I think I might be sick," she said, turning on her heel and walking out of the office.

Harry turned Lily around to face him and grinned at her.

"She isn't very nice, Daddy," she said.

He laughed. "No…no that she is not."

Harry continued working for the greater part of two hours, with a few disruptions here and there in the form of Ellsworth and another Auror by the name of Jeremy Gladwin, who insisted on giving Lily a piggyback ride around the entire floor.

"Should I be concerned by how out of breath you are?" Harry said, once the young man deposited the Lily back into her chair.

"She's a little spitfire, that one," he said, wiping his brow. "Refused to let me put her down until we'd made it through the entire floor. Dunno how you keep up, Harry. What with you being ancient and all."

Harry laughed. "One day at a time, Glads, one day at a time," he said. "What do you say to him, Lily?"

"Thank you," she said, giving the man a bright smile.

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said with a wink, before heading back to his cubicle.

Harry glanced at his watch and sighed. It was nearly his lunch hour. And to be perfectly honest, he was nervous.

The idea had been milling in the back of his mind all day. Even longer than that. From the moment he first decided to bring Lily with him to work, he'd considered the possibility. But he knew he had to make a decision quickly.

Descending down in the lift, he held her hand tightly in his and queued up in the cafeteria, rapidly going through the pros and cons in his mind. After grabbing their lunches, he left the hall and returned to his office as he usually did, preferring to eat in his office, alone.

"Hey, Lils," he said.

"Yes, Daddy?"

Harry shifted slightly in his seat. "Er…I just was thinking…how would you like to eat some yummy pudding?" he said.

Her eyes immediately lit up and she nodded.

He swallowed thickly and put on a smile. "Okay well, once you're finished we can go and get some. How does that sound?"

"Good!" she said, beaming at him.

Harry nodded, praying this wouldn't end up being a bad idea.

* * *

"Remember, Lily, this is a muggle shop. No talk of magic, okay?"

"I  _know,_ Daddy," she said, exasperation clear in her voice. "I'm four."

Harry smiled and pinched her nose lightly before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

_Here goes nothing…_

He led her over to his usual table and waited nervously for Abby to glance in his direction. He didn't know what exactly he was expecting, but he had faith in the fact that that her reaction would be anything but normal.

It was sort of comforting, in a way. Knowing that things would  _not_ go smoothly.

Sure enough, not two seconds later, a loud crash suddenly rang throughout the room followed by an angry hiss of: " _Waters!"_

Abby was staring straight at Lily with wide eyes, oblivious to her fuming boss beside her. She then snapped out of her shock and stared down at the remains of the now broken teacup. "I—I'm sorry, I—I'll clean it up," she said, rushing over to grab a broom and immediately sweeping up the mess.

"Is she going to be in trouble?" Lily said, watching the scene with sympathetic eyes.

"I think she'll be fine," Harry said, patting her hand.

"I'm taking my break now," he heard Abby call, before she practically ran to their table.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the both of them, utterly speechless.

"I think after about 10-15 seconds, this starts to become a bit weird," Harry said.

"But…I…she—she's…"

"I'm Lily," the little girl said, holding out her hand.

Abby's entire body seemed to deflate as she collapsed into the chair across from them and smiled at Lily as if she were the eighth wonder of the world. "I'm Abby, can we be friends?" she said, shaking her little hand.

Lily considered this for a moment and then shrugged. "Okay!"

"Wow, that was much easier than trying to convince some  _other_  people who shall remain nameless," Abby said, looking pointedly at Harry.

"Are you my daddy's friend?" Lily said, with all the innocence of a four-year-old.

Abby looked over at him excitedly and mouthed the word ' _daddy!'_ before glancing back at her.

"Well,  _I_  like to think so," she said. "But sometimes he can be a bit grumpy, so I'm not sure."

Harry raised an eyebrow, causing her to smirk in his direction. He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or if her eyes were actually sparkling that much. Either way, she was way too thrilled about this entire situation, he thought, watching as she continued to converse with Lily.

"Daddy, you said I could have pudding!" Lily said, whipping her head towards him as if just remembering.

"Oh! That'll be my fault. What would you like, Lily?" Abby said.

"Do you have treacle tart?"

"Hmm, like father, like daughter, I see," she said, winking at Harry. "We most certainly do. And guess what?"

"What?"

"It's the best treacle tart in the whole world," she said in a dramatic voice, causing the little girl's eyes to go wide with excitement.

Harry watched her walk away, feeling satisfied with how everything was turning out. He'd barely said anything throughout the entire sitting so far, but he was more than content to just observe the pair of them. It was nice, refreshing even not having to interject, explain, or steer the conversation as he might usually do. The two of them were getting on just fine without him.

"I can't finish," Lily announced some time later, pushing her plate away and leaning back in her seat.

"And this," Harry said, looking at Abby, "is why I never order two of anything."

He took a napkin and attempted to wipe the sticky mess around Lily's mouth and each of her fingers. "Nana's going to kill me when she finds out you had dessert before your nap," he said quietly, squishing her cheeks together in his hand and giving her a fake scowl that caused her to giggle.

He then brought the plate towards him and proceeded to finish the rest of the treacle tart, himself.

After a moment, Harry glanced up to see Abby's eyes on him.

"What?" he said.

She shook her head. "Er...what do you mean, what?" she said, appearing a little disoriented.

"Why are you staring at me?" he said. "Do you want some?"

A light blush coloured her face. "No, sorry," she said. "I was just thinking."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You sure?" he said. "Because it looks like you wanted to say something."

Abby didn't respond right away, but he knew it would come tumbling out in a few seconds. There was always that brief pause that he assumed she used in order to organise her thoughts. He didn't imagine it helped very much though, considering she usually just blurted out whatever was actually on her mind, organisation be damned.

She shifted her eyes away from him, and he followed her gaze down to his hand where Lily was entertaining herself by buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt cuff.

"Harry," Abby said, watching the scene intently. "You're a dad."

He stared at her as if she were a bit touched in the head. "Yes…I believe we went over that," he said.

"No, I mean…you're  _really_ a dad," she said, glancing back at him. "You do dad things and you have a dad voice and it's all so completely strange and fascinating and…and…wonderful."

By this point, Lily was now staring up at her with a confused expression that probably mirrored his own. "What's she talking about, Daddy?" the girl said.

Harry looked at her and then back up at Abby with amusement. "I don't know, flower. She's not making much sense to me either."

Abby chuckled before a sort of wistful look appeared on her face. "I suppose it's just difficult to explain," she said, playing with her necklace as she gazed out the window.

She then turned to look back at them and smiled. "Poor thing looks absolutely wiped out," she said.

Harry glanced down to see Lily nearly dozing off on his arm. "Yeah, she's had a long day," he said, picking her up carefully and letting her rest against him in his lap. "I took her to work with me because she was off from school. Everyone kept stealing her away like she was some sort of toy. Not that she really minded."

"She's lovely," Abby said, her blue eyes filled with warmth. "Clever and kind and polite. And she is simply too adorable for words. Doesn't look much like you, mind. Except for the nose."

"Wow, rude," he said.

She let out a small laugh. "Sorry, Harry. You're also very adorable in your own way," she said, patting his arm.

"Thank you," he said with a nod.

"I'm really glad you let me meet her," Abby said, her voice growing serious. "Now, I might be mistaken, but I think that means you trust me to a certain extent. And if that is the case…then thank you. Thank you so much."

"I do trust you."

The words left his mouth before his brain could even register what he was saying. But he didn't regret them. It was the truth. Sure he didn't trust her like he trusted Ron and Hermione. But they were different…and she was different. And he just trusted them differently.

Abby then grabbed his hand and clasped it tightly it in hers.

Harry stared at her, then down at their hands, then back up at her. "What's this called, then?"

"This," she said, "is called human physical contact. I'm using it in order to convey how much your friendship means to me. Holding your hand equals: a lot."

He chuckled despite himself. "You know I just like taking the mick out of you."

"I know," she said, letting his hand go, but not before pinching the inside of his palm.

He tipped over the stack of creamers on the table, in response.

"What was that for?" she said in confusion.

"Now you have to restack them."

"Wow, are you five?" she said in a terrible imitation of him.

He was about to retort when a soft whine met his ears. Lily was snuggling up tighter against him and attempting to reach out for what he assumed was one of her stuffed animals. Her small fist closed around his tie instead, and she pulled it towards her bringing his head down with it.

"Ow," he muttered, attempting to extract himself without waking her up.

Abby laughed softly before reaching over to help him. "You have to be careful, Harry. This is a choking hazard. You might not be old enough to wear one yet."

"Thanks," he said when he was finally free. "And sod off."

She grinned at him in response.

"I should go," he said, standing up and resting Lily's head on his shoulder. "It's naptime for the firecracker, and I have to get back to work."

Abby nodded with a pleasant smile on her face. "Bring her again, will you? She's loads more fun than you are."

"I'll think about it," he said.

She rolled her eyes at him. "And the other two, as well!" she added.

"I'll think about it," he repeated over his shoulder as he pushed open the door and disappeared into the busy London streets.

As he walked towards his familiar apparition spot in the hidden alleyway at the end of the street, Harry found himself wondering how he possibly could have been nervous about today. This was  _Abby,_ after all. Of course Lily would like her. The two of them were practically the same age.

He chuckled at the thought before wrapping his arms tight around Lily and apparating away.


	12. Chapter 12

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

Harry rolled over in his bed.

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

A light snore escaped him.

Bzzzzzzzzzz.

What was that noise?

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

He opened his eyes groggily and stared up at the ceiling, wondering why he'd suddenly woken up from what had seemed a deep sleep. A soft buzzing sound then met his ears, and he turned his head and saw his mobile lighting up on the bedside table.

He squinted his eyes at the clock, noting that it was 3:19 in the morning. Who in the world would call him at this hour? The kids, maybe? They were at the Burrow, surely asleep.

"Hello?" he answered in confusion.

"HARRY? HARRY IS THAT YOU?" Ron's voice erupted, causing him to wince and quickly pulled the device away from his ear.

Hermione was out of town for the weekend for a conference, which meant Ron was home alone, which meant any number of disasters could be occurring at the moment.

"Ron, stop shouting I can hear you just fine," Harry said in annoyance. "And what the bloody hell are you calling me at the three in the morning for?"

"Harry, is that you?" Ron repeated, in a much more civil tone.

"Obviously it's me, you prat. What do you want?"

A sigh of relief could be heard over the line. "I need your help.  _Now_."

"Are you all right?" Harry said.

"Yes—no—sort of…just come quickly. I'm at home."

With that, Ron hung up the phone. Harry was left with no choice but to dash down the stairs and into the grate, not even bothering to change out of his pyjamas or put on some shoes before flooing away.

"You better have a damn good reason for dragging me out of bed," he called as he stepped out of the fireplace and into the sitting room. He was attempting to brush the soot off his clothes when he felt someone take his arm and pull him away.

"Ron, what—?"

"What do I do?" Ron cried out as soon as he dragged them both into the kitchen.

Harry stared with wide eyes around the room. There was smoke everywhere. The small microwave in the corner appeared to be malfunctioning, causing puffs of smoke to billow forth and steadily fill the air.

A series of loud sparks then caught his attention.

"It's still plugged in?" he shouted, racing over to the seemingly innocent kitchen appliance and quickly detaching it from the socket.

"Careful!" Ron said, pulling him back by the shirt as the last of the sparks emitted dangerously, nearly catching Harry's arm.

They both stumbled backwards into the table and coughed aggressively as they ingested mouthfuls of smoke.

"What the  _hell_  did you put in there?" Harry said with a slight rasp in his voice.

"A chicken leg!" Ron said, looking scandalised. "Don't tell me that's on the list of hundred things not to put in a macrowave, as well."

Burying his nose into the crook of his arm, Harry looked into the glass door of the still smoking device. "No," he said. "But aluminium foil  _is._ "

"What?" Ron said in a slightly high pitched voice as he peered over Harry's shoulder. "No one's ever thought to tell me!"

"You sure about that, mate?" he asked, peeling off a bright orange post-it note with Hermione's neat handwriting and sticking it on Ron's forehead.

Ron grabbed it and glanced over the long list of ' _don'ts!'_ before looking back up at Harry with a sheepish expression.

"Come on, let's get this outside," he said, choosing not to dwell on the subject any longer. Ron had quite a grisly history where muggle technology was involved, after all.

Harry did his best to clear the air with a vanishing spell while Ron levitated the microwave out into the garden. He joined him outside soon after, and they both sat down on the back porch, staring at the rings of smoke in the distance still billowing upwards toward the sky.

"Why didn't you just use a heating charm?" Harry said, looking at him in amusement.

"I left my wand upstairs and was too much of a lazy arse to go back up and get it."

He nodded in understanding. "I'm surprised you used a telephone though. And that you remembered my number."

"Yeah, well I tried floo-calling you, but you didn't answer. And I didn't want to leave the house in case it exploded or something," Ron said. "As for remembering your number…Hermione leaves a lot of post-its."

Harry chuckled in response.

"Sorry for dragging you out of bed, by the way," Ron said, looking at him guiltily.

"Yeah, you bloody well should be," he said, leaning back against his elbows. "You so owe me for this one, mate."

"Butterbeer?" Ron suggested.

"At three in the morning?"

He shrugged.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said.

Ron summoned two bottles from the kitchen, and they clanked them together before each taking a swig.

"Oh and…can you not tell Hermione about this when she gets back?" Ron said.

"Obviously," Harry said, looking at him as if he were daft. "But how are you going to explain why there's no longer a microwave in the kitchen?"

"Oh, I got the perfect plan for that," he said with a grin, looking very proud of himself. "She's been complaining about this thing called ray-dation or something—"

"Radiation."

"Yeah, whatever," he said, waving it off. "Apparently it's bad for your health. So I'll just say I got rid of it because I was worried about the safety of our family."

Harry let out a bark of laughter, sliding his hand against Ron's in a familiar handshake that ended with a solid fist bump. "That's pretty clever for a sod like you."

"I have my moments," Ron said with a smirk.

Harry took another drink from his bottle before leaning forward to rest against his knees. He stared out at the scene before him, seeing a few wisps of light just beginning to appear in the night sky. There were birds chirping in the distance, and the air was cool and pleasant against his face as he sat there with his best mate in a comfortable silence. It was all rather relaxing. A bit touchy-feely, sure. But relaxing.

"You want to crash here tonight?" Ron said through a yawn. "You're already in your jimjams."

"It's not like I had much time to change what with you screaming over the phone as if you were being kidnapped," Harry said.

"Hey, not judging," Ron said holding up his hands in surrender. "Come on, I'll even let you use the guest room."

"You mean we're not sharing a bed?" Harry said in disappointment as he followed him back through the now smoke-free kitchen.

Ron snorted. "You wish, Potter."

They both bid each other goodnight once they reached the first floor landing. Sliding into bed, Harry let out a sigh of contentment, feeling very glad that he didn't have work the next morning. As soon as he shut his eyes, he felt sleep begin to overtake him. And he succumbed, dreaming pleasant and random dreams that he would surely forget in the morning.

* * *

"Wake up, I made breakfast."

Harry didn't even have a chance to open his eyes before he felt the pillow hit him across the face. "Wanker!" he yelled as Ron rushed back down the stairs.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair and yawning widely. It was midmorning by the looks of it which meant he'd gotten a pretty good amount of sleep. He trudged his way toward the bathroom and scoured the cupboards for a toothbrush, knowing full well that Hermione always stocked the house as if preparing for a nuclear war.

After successfully locating one, he made his way down to the kitchen where he was met with the rare sight of Ron over the cooker.

"What are you making?" Harry said, taking a seat at the table.

"Crap looking scrambled eggs and even crappier looking bacon."

"Sounds delicious."

"Tuck in," Ron said, placing a plate in front of him.

Harry looked down at his food, then back up at Ron. "You first."

Ron rolled his eyes and immediately dug in. "It's not half bad," he said through a mouthful of food. "The eggs are a bit…eggy."

"What the hell does that mean?" Harry said.

"You know," he said, taking a forceful bite out of his bacon. "A bit…watery-like."

Harry nodded, throwing caution to the wind as he dug into his plate as well. "Mmm…definitely eggy," he said, slurping a bit off the toast.

They both looked at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter.

"You know, I was just going to let you some cereal, but I thought I'd do something nice," Ron said.

"I'd rather the cereal," Harry said, tearing off the burnt bits of the bacon. "But, you know, thanks for the effort."

"You're welcome, arsehole."

After finishing their breakfast, they collapsed onto the couches in the sitting room, both still wearing their pyjamas and not caring in the least.

"You know, mate," Ron said into the silence, staring up at the ceiling with his head resting on his arm. "I miss you."

Harry turned slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno…we don't spend that much time together anymore, do we? Just us."

"S'pose not," Harry said.

"A bit rubbish, innit?" Ron said.

"It is, yeah."

A brief silence ensued once more, both men deep in their own thoughts.

"I miss you too, you know," Harry said, tapping his fingers against his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Silence once more.

"Why do you think that is?" Ron said. "That we miss each other, I mean."

Harry mulled it over briefly in his mind, but couldn't really come up with any sort of answer. It wasn't as if they didn't see each other often. Not as often as they used to obviously, before marriage and kids and work. But still, often enough. Maybe they just never got the chance anymore to sit like this and do absolutely nothing. Maybe they were both too busy. But hadn't they always been busy?

"I don't know, mate," Harry said, finally. "But I don't like it."

"Me neither."

They both looked at each other for a moment. They didn't say anything. But in the silence, Harry knew that some sort of unspoken agreement had just formed between them.

They didn't want to miss each other any longer.

* * *

There was nothing to watch.

Why was there never anything to watch when she actually had the time?

Abby lay down on the couch, finally settling for a programme about the mating practices of the moths and butterflies of Great Britain and Ireland.

She tossed a piece of popcorn in the air, attempting to catch it with her mouth and frowning when it landed on her eye instead. How did people get it to land in their mouths? She could never manage it for some reason.

Abby sighed, staring at the television screen blankly. She ignored the dull narrator and focused her attention on the pretty colours of the butterflies instead. But even they couldn't hold her interest for very long.

She sighed again.

Sunday was her least favourite day. It always was. Sunday was for lamenting the end of the week. It was for regretting all the things that could've been done, but weren't. Sunday was the unwanted and unneeded reminder of Monday. And everyone hated Monday.

But she disliked Sundays even more. They were the loneliest days of the week.

Abby closed her eyes for a moment, letting the monotonous voice on the telly lull her into a sort of meditative state.

 _Sunday mornings weren't too bad sometimes,_ she mused, a soft smile playing on her face as an image of untidy black hair and bright green eyes swam into her vision.

Harry didn't stop by today, but he often did. She always enjoyed it when he stopped by on Sundays because he would stay for much longer. And they would talk about a lot of things that sometimes didn't make any sense and sometimes made too much sense. She would do most of the talking and he would do most of the listening. But sometimes they would switch off.

Then he would leave.

And Sunday morning would turn into Sunday afternoon and evening, and just like that…she would be alone again.

Abby allowed just a second's worth of self-pity before shaking her head. She hated feeling sorry for herself. It made her feel a bit sick to her stomach.

Having her fill of knowledge about the courtship of butterflies, she switched off the telly and walked over to look out the window. It was a really beautiful, sunny day outside. She smiled as she spotted Mr. Anderson from across the street walking his dog and looking for all the world like the happiest man alive.

Making a split second decision, she slipped on her trainers and ran down the stairs and outside to meet him.

"Hi, Mr. Anderson," she called from behind him.

"Oh!" the man said as he turned around, his expression of surprise melting into that of pleasure at the sight of her. "Hello there, love. Enjoying this lovely weather as well, I hope?"

"Figured I might," Abby said with a shrug. She knelt down on the pavement and scratched Churchill behind the ears just as the excitable dog loved. "Are you heading over to the park with this one, then?"

"Aye," the old man said with a nod. "Don't want him barking up a storm and setting the neighbours off."

Abby grinned at the dog with affection. "Would you mind if I joined you?" she said, standing back up again. "I'd do well with a change of scenery, I think."

"Not at all!" Mr. Anderson exclaimed, his eyes alight with happiness. "I shan't ever say no to company."

"Nor I," she said, as the pair began their journey to the small park nearby.

Mr. Anderson was an adorable old man with rosy cheeks and a bit of a robust waistline who reminded her vaguely of Father Christmas. She usually crossed paths with him on her way to work while he walked his dog. He lived alone, and she didn't think she'd ever known him to have any visitors. But despite that, she never saw him without a smile on his face.

"I regret to say that I don't know very much about you, Abigail," he said, as they both sat on a bench staring at Churchill running around freely in front of them.

"Just Abby, please," she said. "Abigail sounds…"

"Old?"

She laughed. "A bit, yeah," she said.

"Then you may call me Jonathon or John. Never Johnny. Johnny sounds a bit too  _young._ "

"Deal," Abby said, giving him a nod of respect.

"Go on then, tell me," he said, folding his hands against his stomach.

She looked at him in confusion. "Tell you what, sir?"

"Why a young and lively girl such as yourself would want to spend her afternoon with an old codger like me," he said with a chuckle.

Abby shook her head in amusement. "Believe me, most of the people I know aren't half as interesting as you are."

"That's awfully nice of you to say," he said.

"It's the truth," she said with a shrug. "People always want to talk about the same things...but there's so much more. So many conversations just waiting to be had."

"Too right, my dear. Too right," Jonathon said, looking at her with a little twinkle in his eyes.

Abby smiled and turned to watch Churchill as he persistently attempted to chase his own tail.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if people drift apart because they simply have nothing new to say to each other," she said, still intently following the dog's pattern. "But then I think…no, it can't be that simple."

"You seem to have a lot of thoughts," he said.

Abby couldn't help but laugh. "No, I just talk too much. Most people keep their thoughts to themselves."

He stared down at her over his glasses and winked. "Perhaps that's the problem."

* * *

Abby hummed softly as she wiped down the tables, wishing not for the first time that Crab-apple would let her play some music on the radio. Whenever she asked though, her boss would just glare at her as if she'd requested something scandalous.

"You missed a spot," said a voice in her ear.

Abby nearly jumped out of her skin, accidentally pressing her finger down on the nozzle of her spray bottle as she whipped around.

" _Shit!"_ Harry said, holding his palms against his eyes as he screwed his face up in pain.

Abby gaped open-mouthed, before grabbing his arm and dragging him quickly toward the loo in the back.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, uncovering one eye to look at her.

"You need to wash it out!" she said, shoving him through the door.

Before Harry could even protest, she pushed his head into the basin and started the tap. "Go on!" she said.

He glared up at her before proceeding to wash his eyes out. Abby rushed out to grab some napkins and then rushed back in, wincing when Harry looked up at her with slightly bloodshot eyes.

"I am  _so_  so sorry," she said, holding a hand up. "It was just a reflex or something. You frightened me and I—"

"Sprayed toxic liquid in my face," he said. "Don't worry, I'm sure my corneas are still intact."

"I'm sorry," Abby said again, feeling terribly guilty. "Does it still hurt?"

"It's fine," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" she said, noting how he was still rubbing at his eyes.

"Yes, I'm  _fine_ ," he repeated.

"Let me at least take a closer look."

"Abby—"

"Can you please not be insufferable for once in your life?" she said loudly, causing a look of surprise to flit across his face. She tried to hide her triumphant smile as she walked up to his now rooted form.

Abby attempted to look for any signs of damage as she gently pried each lid open. From this close, she could see every detailed fleck in his irises, and they were just so obnoxiously  _green_ that she was finding it hard to concentrate. She'd always liked his eyes, but this was a whole new experience altogether.

 _As is being this close to his face_ , she thought, feeling strangely rebellious that she was inside his personal bubble.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Harry asked.

Abby snapped out of her reverie.

"Er…yeah, your corneas look great," she said with a nod.

"Corneas are transparent. You wouldn't be able to see them."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, yeah...I knew that."

"Right…" he said slowly. "Thanks for your help. I'm sure I'll survive."

He was about to push past her, when the door opened and a woman walked in. But she immediately stopped in her tracks and gave Harry a strange look before walking back out again.

Harry glanced around at his surroundings for the first time. "You brought me to the women's toilet!?" he said.

"Well, I couldn't very well go the men's!" she spluttered.

"Of course not," he said. "Just go make sure nobody's outside the door."

Abby pushed it open a fraction to peek through and then quickly waved him over. "Coast is clear!" she whispered.

They both rushed out of the facilities and then casually parted ways as Harry returned to his table while she went to grab his coffee.

"Here you are," she said, placing his cup on the table and taking a seat across from him. "Am I forgiven?"

"No."

"I also brought you some biscuits," she said, revealing the plate from behind her. "Don't worry, my treat."

Harry laughed. "Fine," he said. "Forgiveness granted."

Abby smiled in return, watching him open up the newspaper. She felt a bit weird admitting it, but she'd missed him. Yes, it had only been two days, but it just felt like more. It always felt like more with Harry.

"What's your least favourite day of the week?" she said, resting her chin on her hand and staring at him.

Harry looked up and seemed to consider it for a moment. "Saturday."

"Really? Why?" she said.

He shrugged. "The kids go to their grandparent's…I guess I just get bored," he said.

Abby nodded in understanding. "They're the life of the house, I'm sure," she said, as she thought of the adorable little four year-old she had met last week.

She still wasn't completely able to wrap her head around the fact that Harry had children. When he'd first told her, she honestly couldn't even picture it. But after meeting Lily, the idea was slowly becoming less unbelievable. Because for the first time, she could see that Harry was so much more than the quiet, brooding man she'd met all those months ago.

He was a dad and he'd been a husband. He was a son-in-law and probably a friend. And perhaps it should have been more disconcerting to learn all these things, but Abby simply found herself wanting to learn more.

"And you?" he said, pulling her from her thoughts as he grabbed a biscuit.

"Me, what?"

"Your least favourite day," he said.

"Oh. Sunday for sure," she said. "I get quite bored, as well. My flatmate usually isn't home…not that we have very compelling conversation, but, you know, it's another person. "

Harry stared at her. "Is she a friend of yours from school or something?"

"No, I sort of just needed someone to share the flat with. I put an advertisement in the paper, and well, Clara seemed the most normal," Abby said. "The key word here being 'seemed'."

"She can't be weirder than you," Harry said.

Abby shrugged. "We're just very different, I suppose. She's…rather the extrovert."

"Hold on," Harry asked, looking slightly amused. "Are you saying that you're  _not_ an extrovert?"

"Okay, she's even more extroverted than I am," Abby said with a small smile.

"I can't even fathom such a creature."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, don't worry. You won't be meeting her anytime soon. Not at all, if I can help it."

"Why not?" Harry said, taking another biscuit off the plate.

"Because she'd sink her claws into you and suck all your blood out in one go."

He hummed thoughtfully as finished chewing his bite "Okay, but how does she have claws if she's a vampire?"

Abby stared at him for a moment, feeling rather confused by his remark. "You say the strangest things sometimes, you know that?"

Harry merely shrugged. "So, what…she attacks people?" he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"You could say that," Abby said in amusement. "But Clara's a bit selective, you see. She only goes for the male sort."

It seemed to take him a moment to catch on, but when he finally did, he let out a small "ah" of understanding.

"And well, you happen to be rather dishy," she said, gesturing towards him. "So, I advise you to stay well away from her claws."

Harry shifted in his seat a bit in response and then softly cleared his throat.

"Oh, dear…" Abby said, trying to hold back a smile. "Have I made you uncomfortable?"

"No," he said.

She watched as he ran a hand through his hair and made a show of opening up the paper and focusing his attention back on it instead.

Abby leaned in closer, her chin resting on the top of the page he was reading. "Not even a little bit?"

He looked up with an annoyed sigh. "No," he repeated in a clear voice.

She chuckled in response, knowing he was lying through his teeth. She found it rather adorable that he could be all harsh and intimidating, but one remark about his looks had him blushing like a teenager.

He really was something else, she mused. Something strange and oh so full of surprises.

Abby had to attend to a few other customers at that point, and when she returned, Harry was digging in his pockets for his money as he stood up to leave.

"Say hi to Lily for me," she said. "And tell her that I miss her, and I'd really like to see her soon."

"I will," he said with a small smile.

"And sorry again," she said. "For...almost blinding you and all that."

"Just try not to make a habit of causing me physical trauma," he said with a grin before exiting the shop.

Abby blushed slightly, realising that this was the second time she'd nearly sent him to hospital.

 _And hopefully the last_ , she thought, heading back to clear up his table. She stopped short, however, when she noticed that he'd accidentally left too much money.

But then it suddenly dawned on her. It wasn't an accident, at all. And her heart filled with a sort of warmth that she couldn't describe. And she was annoyed and pleased at the same time.

The prat had gone and paid for the biscuits.

* * *

Harry apparated into the long drive that led up to the Tonks residence. It had been a long day at work, but the sunny weather outside was more than making up for it. He bypassed the front door and walked around back instead, figuring the kids would be playing in the garden.

Sure enough, he spotted James and Al playing a match of one-a-side football. Harry walked over to Lily who was sitting on the back porch with her arms folded resolutely against her chest and her face set into a pout.

"What's wrong, flower?"

When Lily looked up and saw him standing there, her bottom lip jutted out even more if possible, and he could see her eyes beginning to water.

"They won't let me play!" she said angrily, throwing herself into his arms as he sat down beside her.

"I thought you didn't like football," he reminded her gently, rubbing her back as she cried into his knee.

"Yes, I do!" she said in a muffled voice.

"Oh! Harry, I thought I heard your voice."

He turned around to see Andi emerging from the kitchen with a tray of lemonade floating in front of her.

"Just got here. But I've been a bit preoccupied," he said, gesturing towards the crying four-year old still attached to him.

Andi sighed. "Come now, love. I thought we said no more tears? Don't you want to show Daddy how big of a girl you are?"

"No!" came Lily's angry retort.

"She's been at it since they brought that wretched ball out," Andi said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "What the appeal is, I'll never know."

Harry chuckled softly, always finding it amusing whenever Andromeda got incensed about such trivial things. Perhaps it was the fact that she held a very strong resemblance to her deceased sister, yet was absolutely nothing like her in any other way imaginable.

It had taken him a bit of time to truly appreciate that, of course. She always appeared so regal and put together, and he used to wonder how such a woman could have possibly raised the bright and lively Nymphadora Tonks.

But the more time he'd spent with her and Teddy that year after the war, the more he began to realise that it was all just a mask. A very well assembled mask. And underneath it held a woman who could be just as bright, lively, goofy, warm, and loving as her daughter. And Harry was proud to call her family.

"Boys, come fetch your drinks!" Andi called.

James and Al raced each other all the way up to the porch, giving Harry a high-five as they crossed their imaginary finish line.

"Who won?" they both asked simultaneously.

"It was very, very close…" Harry said, as they looked at him in anticipation. "But the gold goes to defending champion, Albus Potter!"

"Booooo," James said, pushing his brother aside as he went to grab a drink.

Al only smirked as he followed after him, the both of them gulping down their lemonades as if they'd been stranded on a desert.

"Slow down or you'll both get an upset stomach," Andi said, tutting loudly.

"Lily, don't you want some lemonade?" Harry said, brushing her hair away from her blotchy face. She'd finally stopped crying, but was still refusing to let go of his leg.

When the boys spotted their sister, they both sighed and gave each other a look.

"Lily, we didn't mean to make you sad," James said. "It's just that…football's not for little kids."

"I'm not little!" she said, glaring at him.

James patted her head, giving her a patronising smile. "You kind of are, pipsqueak," he said.

"But that's okay," Al said before Lily could protest further. "Being little's nice."

"How?" she said, crossing her arms.

Both boys looked at Harry for help.

"Because...you can do this," Harry said, picking Lily up and propping her on his shoulders as he did a quick lap around the garden.

Lily screamed in surprise before breaking out into infectious giggles.

"My turn, Dad!" James said, once a slightly panting Harry dropped down onto the porch with Lily still on his shoulders.

"Now, James," he said, putting on a stern look. "You know you're too big for piggy-back rides."

The boy pretended to look put out, while Al sniggered quietly behind him.

"It's okay, Jamie," Lily said, walking over to her brother and patting his arm. "When Daddy grows up, he could give you a piggy-back ride again."

"Oh, neat, I can't wait till you get old, Dad!" James said, causing Harry to ruffle his hair wildly.

"Too cheeky for his own good, that one," Andi said in amusement as she attempted to redo Lily's now very messed up ponytail.

The two adults sat alone on the porch as the kids ran back out into the garden. James was trying to teach Lily how to kick the football properly while Al played goalkeeper.

"They're good boys, really," Andi said, as they observed the scene before them.

"Yeah, when they want to be," Harry said, resting his elbows against his knees.

Andi turned to face him then, and paused. "You look tired, Harry," she said.

He knitted his eyebrows in confusion. "Do I?" he said. He'd actually gotten more sleep last night than usual.

"Your eyes are a bit red."

He grinned to himself as he looked down at the ground. "Er…yeah. I had a bit of an accident earlier," he said.

"What sort of accident?" Andi said, her tone laced with worry.

"It's nothing serious," he said quickly. "Just some cleaning product that I got in my eyes."

Andi looked at him strangely. "When were you cleaning?"

"Erm…" he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I wasn't."

"I'm not sure I understand," she said.

Harry sighed, trying to think of the best way to formulate his answer without bringing Abby up. He'd already been forced to tell Hermione about her, but he really just wanted to tell Andi on his own terms.

"I just—I was at a coffee shop earlier…for coffee," he said. "And one of the waitresses accidentally, well…sprayed me in the eyes."

" _What?"_  Andi said, grabbing a hold of his head and checking both eyes for damage.

 _What on earth are they looking for_ , he thought with mild exasperation.

Abby's little inspection this morning had been the epitome of uncomfortable. They were friends and all, sure. But he didn't prefer any of his friends being that up close and personal. He'd tried his best to look away from her eyes and focus on something else, but it was a bit hard what with their blueness and openness and warmth that stubbornly and persistently pulled him in as if the very essence of her personality was embodied in them.

Harry shook his head, feeling annoyed that the image kept reappearing in his mind.

Andi released him at that point and pulled out her wand. She muttered a spell that he recognised as a diagnostic charm and then tutted loudly and shook her head.

"You have a superficial abrasion in both eyes. Were you rubbing them?" she said with a stern look that could rival that of Madam Pomfrey, herself.

"No," he said, not meeting her gaze.

"Don't lie to me, Harry Potter!"

He sighed. "All right, I rubbed them a little," he said. "But they kept itching."

"You foolish man. You should've gone straight to the infirmary when you returned to the Ministry," she said, shaking her head. "Sprayed in the eyes...and with a muggle cleaning product, no less! Who knows what sort of atrocities they mix together..."

Andi was muttering this entire rant while simultaneously casting the appropriate spells to heal the damage that Abby had apparently wrought.

"There," she said, finally. "Good as new. Do you still feel any pain?"

"No," Harry said, before giving her his most charming smile. "Thanks, Andi. Who knows where I'd be without your love and care. Blind, probably."

"Oh hush, you," she said, smacking him on the arm.

Harry grinned at her as she pulled him in for a one-armed hug, mumbling something about cheeky sons and fathers.


	13. Chapter 13

It was a Thursday evening in the Potter household. June was rapidly approaching which meant school would be letting out in only a few more weeks. While Albus was always very studious in nature, getting James to do his work was a bit like pulling a hippogriff's teeth. And unfortunately it only got worse as the holidays drew nearer.

"Do you know if James finished his homework?" Harry said, hanging up Al's spelling test on the fridge which he'd received full marks on.

"I don't think so," Al said. "Freddie and Roxy came over."

Harry didn't need any further explanation. Whenever James and Freddie were together, all sense of responsibility was tossed out the window.

"James!" he called up the staircase.

"Yeah?" came his muffled reply.

"Come downstairs and finish your homework."

There was a pause.

"I already did it!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why don't I believe you?" he said. "Come on, let's go! I want it done before dinner."

A loud groan could be heard from inside the room, before James appeared, trudging ever so slowly down the stairs and dragging his backpack behind him so that it bounced loudly off each step.

Harry watched the entire process with an unimpressed expression. "Sit," he said, pointing to the kitchen table.

"I suppose you've already finished, then?" James asked his brother snidely as he sat down and pulled his folder out.

Al looked up from the Batmobile Lego set he was currently working on and opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut him off.

"No," he said. "He's trying to start a fight. Don't respond to him."

"Okay," Al said with a shrug as he returned to his legos.

James scoffed before turning to address Harry instead. "What's for dinner, Dad?"

"Steak. Now stop wasting time and do your work."

James let his forehead fall to the table with an audible  _bang_. "But it's fractions," he whined. "I  _hate_  fractions."

Harry couldn't really blame him there. Maths had never been his strong suit, either. Nor were any of the muggle subjects, really. He'd been pretty good at science, but any potential to exceed had been thoroughly stomped out of him by the Dursleys.

 _Good old Vernon and Petunia_ , Harry thought as he sliced some tomatoes for the salad.

His ability to cook was just about the only thing he'd gained from growing up with them. While he'd loathed it at first, just as he'd loathed all the chores his aunt had forced upon him, Harry had quickly come to realise that it was much easier to nick food when he was the one preparing it. And thus, his fondness had grown.

"Lily! Did you take the cape for my batman?" Al yelled, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"Why?" she yelled back from the sitting room.

Al rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Because I sort of need it!"

There was no response.

"Lily?"

"LILY!"

"How am I supposed to do my homework with all this racket?" James said, throwing his pencil down and folding his arms across his chest.

"Al, if you want something from your sister, walk into the next room and ask her," Harry said over his shoulder.

"But she's always stealing my stuff, Dad," Al said with a tone of indignation. "Yesterday I found five of my gobstones in her room."

"What were you doing snooping around her room for?" James said.

"Looking for my gobstones!"

Harry sighed heavily. "I'll have a talk with her later, I promise. Let's just get through dinner first, all right?"

Al slumped down in his chair, resting his hand against his cheek and staring at the table with downcast eyes.

Harry clicked his tongue softly. "Come on, Alby," he said. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?" he said with a small pout.

"The one that makes me feel like a horrible dad."

"You mean the one he uses to get you to do whatever he wants," James said lightly as he scribbled in an answer on his worksheet.

"Albus? Albus Potter?  _My_ Albus Potter?" Harry said, placing a hand against his chest. "Never!"

Al tried and failed to suppress a giggle. "Well, I do sometimes," he said with a little half-shrug.

Harry chuckled as he turned back towards the tomatoes. "I know," he said, dumping them into the bowl. "So don't think acting all cute is going to get either of you anywhere."

"Sure, Dad," James said while Al laughed.

Harry knew he was a bit of a pushover, there was no denying that. And goodness knows Ginny had berated him enough for it in the past. When the boys were little, one small pout would usually send him off the edge, and he would immediately give in to their demands, much to their mother's annoyance.

But he learned quickly, with the help of Ginny, that if he didn't put his foot down, they would eventually walk all over him. Or worse, turn into little brats like Draco Malfoy.

That last part was what really convinced Harry that chocolate before bed was no longer permissible.

"Done!" James announced, closing his folder enthusiastically and throwing it into his backpack.

"Just in time," Harry said. "Al, clear your stuff. James and Lily, set the table."

The boys, along with Lily who had just entered the kitchen, immediately set to work. They usually liked to race each other to see who would get done first. Unfortunately, Al's lego pieces were currently strewn across the table which meant that there was going to be a bit of a hold up and a whole lot of arguing.

Once their tasks were finally completed and the food was set, they all dug in with enthusiasm. Dinner was usually a noisy affair, with the kids chattering on about their days, sometimes waiting their turn to talk, and other times just talking over each other.

Harry didn't really mind. Long ago he'd developed the rather useful ability to listen to multiple conversations at once. It had become sort of necessary when he had three children all vying for his undivided attention. He liked to call it his 'special dad skill'. In fact, it was right up there with pulling small bits of toys from toddlers' noses. That particular ability had proven very useful when James was little.

"Dad, can we have Nan's cake now?" James asked once they'd finished clearing the table after dinner.

"Sure, what kind is it?"

"Chocolate," he said. "I helped make it."

"All you did was lick the bowl," Al said.

James flicked his brother behind the ear, before walking over to the fridge and pulling out their pudding with an almost tender look on his face.

"Does Abby make chocolate cake, too, Daddy?" Lily said, turning to look at him. "I really liked her treacle tart."

Harry froze, the plate he was sending to the cupboard pausing in midair.

Was it his imagination, or did the whole kitchen just become awfully silent?

"Who's Abby…?" James said.

"My friend," she said as Harry lowered the plate back down and turned to face them.

The two boys looked at each other. "Imaginary, I reckon," James told his brother quietly.

"She's not imaginary! She's Daddy's friend, too!"

Harry swallowed thickly, feeling a nervous twisting sensation in his stomach all of a sudden.

"Dad doesn't have any friends," James said matter-of-factly. "Only Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and they're family."

"And Neville and Luna," Al said. He creased his eyebrows in thought as if trying to remember if there was anybody else. "And us. But that's it."

Harry could see Lily's face form into a scowl as she stared at her brothers who continued to look at her as if she were delusional.

He needed to fix this.

"Er…" Harry said as three pairs of eyes looked up at him at once. "Erm, yeah. I know someone named Abby."

"Why does Lily think she's your friend?" James said, chuckling at the idea.

"Because she is. She  _said_ so!" the little girl piped up.

Harry walked over to the table and sat down, clasping his hands together and staring at them intently. He'd been debating for a while now how and when to broach this subject with them. Perhaps now would be as good a time as any. "She's just someone I see a lot from day to day. Like a…work friend, sort of."

"Is she an auror?" Al said.

"No...no she's not an auror. She's not even a witch."

"A muggle?" James said in surprise.

Harry nodded his head slowly. "She's a waitress. I get coffee nearly every day from the café she works at. So we just sort of know each other by now. I….well, I suppose I could call her a friend."

The boys looked at him strangely. Harry didn't like that look. He didn't like it at all. It was a look of surprise, of confusion. But that's not what bothered him. No, what bothered him was the smallest hint of disappointment he could see in their eyes, like he'd let them down. Because, in a way, he had. He'd kept something from them, and he never did that.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you," he said. "I meant to. I was going to really soon, I just…I don't know."

They didn't say anything for a moment until James finally spoke up. "How did Lily know?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I took her with me once when she was off from school."

"Abby's really nice," Lily said, her head resting in both her hands as she followed the conversation back and forth with her eyes.

"I don't get it. What's the big deal?" Al said, looking between him and James. "I mean, you just made a new friend, right?"

"Yes! Yes, she's just a friend," Harry said quickly, not missing the somewhat relieved look that appeared on James' face. "We haven't even been friends long. I've known her for a few months, but I only started talking to her recently."

James raised a curious eyebrow. "Why did you start?"

Harry didn't even know the answer to that question, himself. It was a mystery that he was quite reluctant to figure out because he feared that the answer might raise even more questions.

So, he just said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Because she made me."

They stared at him.

"Like with a spell?" Al said in confusion.

James rolled his eyes. "She's a muggle, stupid. She can't do magic."

"Don't call him stupid," Harry said, pointing his finger. "And no...not with a spell or anything like that. She's just really… _really_ determined."

Harry wasn't even sure if they knew what the word 'determined' meant, but he wanted to refrain from using words like 'annoying' and 'mad'.

"Anyway," he said, clapping his hands together. "That's really all there is to say, I suppose. I—I understand if you're upset with me."

He stared down at his fingers for a moment in an effort to avoid their eyes.

"Why would we be upset?" Al said. "So what if you have another friend?"

Harry looked up and smiled softly at him before shifting his eyes toward James who as of yet had remained silent. There was the tiniest frown set on the boy's face that anyone else may have overlooked. But it was as clear as day to Harry.

"As long as you still have time for us," James muttered with a shrug.

"What? I—James—of  _course_  I'll have time for you. I will always have time for you, all of you!" Harry said, looking at all three of them with a sort of fierceness.

He took the boy's hand in his and clasped it tightly. "You guys are my whole world," he said. "Nothing,  _nothing_  can ever change that. Do you understand? I don't care if Merlin himself dropped down right now and told me to spend the day with him. I'd just tell him to sod off because I've got more important things to do. Like eat chocolate cake with my three amazing, beautiful, loud, messy, and perfect children."

James mouth twitched slightly before giving him a smile. There was a clear look of relief in his eyes, and it saddened Harry to think that he could ever worry over such a thing.

"Come here," he said, beckoning him forward with a nod of his head.

James ambled his way over and accepted Harry's warm embrace, his small arms hugging him tightly in return.

"I love you more than anything," Harry whispered into his ear.

"I know," James mumbled, resting his face atop his shoulder.

Harry smiled down at him, brushing a hand through the boy's hair like he used to do when James would be in this exact same position as a baby.

"I still don't know what the big deal is," Al said, walking up and throwing an arm around his Harry's shoulders. "Who wouldn't want to spend time with us? We're adorable."

Lily nodded enthusiastically in agreement causing James to laugh.

"Lils gets first dibs on cake since I like her the most," he said, letting go of Harry to go grab it. "Then Dad. Then me. Then…am I missing anybody?"

"You like Dad more than you?" Al said, shoving his brother as he walked by to get the plates.

"No, I'm just trying to respect my elders."

Harry snorted loudly, cutting everyone a piece as they all sat back down around the table and proceeded to enjoy Nana Molly's delightful chocolate cake. And he knew, just as he always did, that there was absolutely nowhere else in the entire world that he would rather be.

* * *

"…So, that's when I eventually came to the conclusion that my favourite animal is, in fact, a buffalo. And I can't tell you how pleased I was. I mean, all this time I was  _certain_  that—"

"Abby, love," Maggie said. "That's a great story and all, but I'm trying to count the till."

"Oh…right, sorry," she said, averting her attention back to the magazine she'd been thumbing through.

It was early afternoon on a Saturday and there was barely anyone in the shop. The few customers present were mostly keeping to themselves, and not being needy or demanding in the slightest.

_The nerve of them._

She'd take needy and demanding any day. At least it gave her something to do.

"Kate Middleton's dog apparently ate her pearl earrings," Abby said, flipping the page with boredom. "Shame, that. Can't be good for his intestines."

" _Holy_  mother of…!" Maggie suddenly exclaimed, a few pence slipping from her fingers and hitting the floor with a soft  _clink._

Abby looked up at her in surprise. "I'm sure he'll be all right," she said, trying to reassure her. "They'll pass right through, I imagine—"

"No, shut up," Maggie hissed, staring at something behind her with wide eyes. "Oh my—I don't even—did he kidnap those children?"

"What on earth on you talking about?"

The girl clicked her tongue loudly. "Look behind you!" she said.

Abby turned around in her seat, and her confused expression immediately melted into a large grin. Harry had just walked in holding Lily's hand, with two young boys trailing behind them.

"No…definitely no kidnapping involved," she said, shaking her head slowly.

"You mean they're  _his_?" Maggie whispered in shock. "All of them?"

Abby nodded.

"Bloody hell…" the girl mumbled. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go!"

Abby felt herself being pushed off the stool, and she turned around to glare at Maggie before smoothing down her apron and walking toward their table.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so nervous. God, why didn't he warn her at least? Her hair was probably a fright and her trainers were scuffed and worn-out. What if they didn't like her trainers? And she didn't even get to prepare an introduction! Now she was probably going to go over there and spurt on about buffalos and pearl earrings and kidnappings or something. All because Harry hadn't warned her.

"Hi," she said, her voice coming out as squeak.

Lily was sitting next to Harry and the boys were seated on his other side, both looking up at her with blank expressions.

_Oh my God, they hate me already…_

"Er…the boys wanted to meet you," Harry said. "I told them I had a friend, and…well, they didn't believe me."

"He didn't force you to come, did he?" she said. "I mean, I told him that I wanted to meet you, as well. But I didn't want you to be forced. I've met Lily already, as I'm sure you know, and we're good friends now, aren't we Lily?"

The little girl nodded with a bright smile.

"Anyway, I'm talking too much, and I haven't even learned your names yet. I mean, I have learned them, but we haven't been properly introduced, have we? I'm Abby, by the way. I'm really sorry about my trainers."

They both looked at her as if she were slightly mad.

Harry then nudged the boy next to him who appeared to be the younger of the two.

"I'm Albus, but you can call me Al."

Abby took in the young boy for the first time, and was slightly amazed to find that he looked nearly exactly like Harry. It was as if he were a little carbon-copy except ten times more adorable. He had a small face with a small nose and mouth, and his slightly larger eyes were just as brilliantly green as his father's. She smiled brightly at him and shook his hand.

"My name's James," the older boy spoke up, staring at her with an unimpressed look.

"Hello," she said, shaking his hand and feeling a bit self-conscious.

James didn't look like his father as much. His hair was just as messy, but a bit lighter in colour. His eyes were brown like Lily's, and they exuded the same warmth despite the slightly guarded look in them. But his face was kind, with cheeks that seemed as if they had a permanent flush and bright red lips that gave him the appearance of one who was constantly excited and alive.

These were Harry's children. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe she was actually meeting all of Harry's children.

"So, how did you two meet, then?" James said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sorry?" she said, breaking out of her daze.

"You and my dad. How did you meet?" he repeated.

Abby saw a look of amusement pass over Harry's face.

"Erm…well, here," she said, gesturing around her.

James raised an eyebrow at her. "And have you made any other friends here?"

"If not, then why my dad?" Al added.

She felt Harry's stare on her, and she turned to see a curious look on his face, as if he wanted to know the answer to that as well. But how could she give an answer when she wasn't even certain of it herself? Sure, Abby knew why she liked being around Harry. But how could she explain that to two young boys who barely knew her?

"Yes, I've made a few friends," she said finally. "But none of them as unique as your dad."

James and Al both stared intently at her for a moment, before sharing a small look of their own. They seemed to be having some silent conversation, and she just hoped that they weren't mentally planning her demise.

"Is the interrogation over so soon?" Harry spoke up after a short bout of silence, looking a bit disappointed.

Both boys rolled their eyes at him causing Abby to giggle.

"Who'd like some dessert?" she said, knowing that was the best way to anyone's heart. Some might call it bribery, but she simply liked to think of it as being practical.

Sure enough, their eyes immediately shone with enthusiasm, and Abby couldn't help but grin as she took their orders.

"I'll have a piece of chocolate cake. Make sure it's big, please," James said, giving her a charming smile as he handed over his menu.

"No," Harry said. "Make sure it's  _not_ big. You know you're not going to finish it."

"I'll just take it home if I have to!"

"Get a small one first, and if you want more, then we'll get more," Harry said with all the patience of one who was used to having this argument.

"I want chocolate cake, too!" Lily said excitedly. "Daddy, I want chocolate cake!"

"Do you have milkshakes?" Al said.

James scoffed at his brother. "You're getting a milkshake? Who gets milkshakes when you can have actual dessert?"

" _I_ do," Al said, staring at his brother in defiance.

"James, just mind your own business. He can get whatever he wants," Harry said. "You have milkshakes, yes?"

"Daddy, I want chocolate cake!"

"Yes…yes, we have milkshakes," Abby said, trying to keep up with the conversation.

"Right, one milkshake and two pieces of chocolate cake."

"Anything for you?" she asked him.

"I'm fine for now, thanks," Harry said, giving her a smile.

She nodded her head once before walking away.

As soon as Maggie saw her face, the girl snorted loudly. "Bloody hell…" she said, her voice shaking with laughter. "You look properly done in."

"What? I'm fine," Abby said, voice nearly an octave higher.

"Right," the other girl said, disbelief clearly written on her features. "You so owe me an explanation after this, by the way."

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, don't play stupid," Maggie said in a huff. "He's got three children and no ring, and I'm just itching to know where Mummy is."

Abby's eyes went wide as he jerked her head up.

"That's none of your business!" she hissed with more heat in her voice than she intended.

Maggie looked slightly taken aback. "Whoa…"

"Sorry…I-I'm sorry," Abby said quickly, shaking her head. "It's just not my place to tell, all right?"

"Fine…"

"Maggie—"

"It's fine," the girl repeated. "I understand. His story, not yours."

Abby stared at the girl guiltily for a moment before muttering a small apology once more and walking away. She didn't like snapping at people. She rarely ever did. Sighing heavily, she vowed to apologise properly to her later and pushed the thought from her mind for now.

She smiled softly at the level of noise coming from the front table as she walked toward them, such a change from the silence she was used to when Harry sat there alone. It was a nice change, she mused.

"Here you are," she announced, placing their orders in front of them, and then standing there.

Harry glanced up at her. "You can sit down, you know."

She gave him a pointed look before motioning her head toward the boys.

He rolled his eyes. "Is it all right with everyone if Abby sits down?" he asked out loud.

James and Al both shrugged. Lily, on the other hand, looked quite excited at the prospect of spending more time with her.

"You can sit next to me, Abby," the little girl said, patting the chair beside her.

"I would be honoured," she said with a bright smile. "So…I know that Lily's four and Harry's—what, like a hundred?"

The kids giggled, staring up at their father in amusement.

"Give or take a few years," Harry said.

Abby nodded and turned to address the boys. "So, how old are you two, then?"

"Jamie's eight and Al's seven," Lily said, her mouth already covered in chocolate.

"They can speak for themselves, Lils," Harry told her gently.

Lily ducked her head into Harry's arm and blushed, muttering a small 'sorry'.

"How old are you?" James said a bit rudely.

Harry gave him a look. "Mind your manners," he said.

"Why? She asked  _us_."

"Well, I don't mind, really," Abby said, giving the boy a kind smile. "But some people do. You see when you get older…you sort of start to wish that you didn't have to keep growing. That you could just stay young forever."

"Like Peter Pan?" Lily said. "Daddy, you remember that story about Peter Pan?'

"Yeah..." Harry said, staring at Abby with a thoughtful look in his eye.

She raised an eyebrow at him in question, but he merely shook his head. "Er…anyway," she said, glancing back at James. "In response to your very valid question: I'm twenty-four. Nearly twenty-five, actually. Blimey, I'm getting old, eh?"

"Your birthday's coming up?" Harry said with interest.

"Oh, yeah. 21st of June, summer solstice," she said, widening her eyes for dramatic effect. "Dunno if that holds any significance, but there you go."

"Daddy's birthday is in the summer, too," Lily told her.

"31st of July, but everyone knows that already," Al said, sharing an annoyed look with his brother.

"Albus," Harry muttered.

He gave his son a look of warning that left Abby rather confused, especially when a guilty expression appeared on the boy's face as if he'd let some secret slip. Perhaps Harry just really didn't like people knowing his birthday? It wouldn't be too surprising. She couldn't imagine him enjoying the attention very much.

But still, it was rather odd.

Abby pushed the thought aside for now as she picked up their plates to deposit in the kitchen. When she walked back out, she was surprised to find Harry waiting for her in the back, drumming his fingers against the counter and pointedly ignoring Maggie's rather obvious stare.

"Hey," she said.

"Er…we're leaving soon," he said quietly.

"Okay..."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit uncomfortable. She couldn't really blame him. Maggie was still staring blatantly at them as if trying to decipher exactly what they were saying.

"You finish work pretty early tonight, yeah?" he finally asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah…five o'clock. Why?"

He folded his arms securely against his chest and stared down at his shoes for a moment. Abby followed his gaze, not surprised to find that his trainers were much nicer looking than hers.

"I was wondering if…maybe you wanted to do something later?" he said, still gazing at his shoes. "The kids will be at their grandparent's house, and I'll be alone and bored."

"You hate Saturdays," she said with a small smile.

He sniffed lightly in amusement. "Yeah, I do," he said, looking up at her.

"Well, of course I'll hang out with you, Harry," she said. "I'd love to. I always have fun with you."

He gave her a rather attractive half-smirk that she'd never seen him use before. "Sure you do," he said.

"Wha—I do!" she said. "You know, I wasn't lying before when I said you're unique. The real question is…do you have fun with me?"

He shrugged. "You're all right."

"And you're a git," she said, causing him to laugh. "Well, you can meet me at my flat if you want. I'm sure we'll figure out something to do."

"Yeah, sure that's—"

"Dad!"

They both turned to see James standing up, tapping an invisible watch on his wrist in earnest. "Let's go, we haven't got all day!"

"I'll be right there," Harry called, before facing Abby again. "See you at around six?"

She nodded with a bright smile. "Can I come say goodbye?" she said, motioning toward the kids.

"Yeah, of course."

They walked to the front table together, and Abby shook her head in amusement when James let out an exasperated 'finally!'

"It was such a pleasure to meet you both," she said, looking between James and Al. "I really, really hope I can see you again. And perhaps we can become friends, too?"

Al shook her hand politely, but James merely nodded at her as he stood by his father's side.

"And let's not forget lovely Lily!" Abby said, bending down to tap the girl affectionately on her cute little nose. "Thank you for visiting me again."

"You're welcome!" she said, giving her a toothy smile. "You should come over and play sometime."

Harry cleared his throat. "Let's go, Lils," he said, taking the girl's hand and nodding his head toward Abby in farewell. "See you."

"Bye," Abby said, giving them all a small wave.

She stood there for a moment after the door had closed behind them and simply stared at it. The room was so quiet now. Had it always been this quiet? She looked around the shop and saw three customers scattered throughout, each of them sitting alone and reading.

Shaking her head, she walked toward the back where Maggie was sat, playing some sort of game on her mobile.

"Hey…" Abby greeted, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm sorry again…about before."

"You like him."

She stared at the girl blankly. "What?"

"You like him," Maggie repeated, this time slower.

"Well, yeah," she said. "We are friends, after all."

"No," the girl said, looking up from her phone at last. "I mean you  _really_  like him."

Abby sighed in annoyance. "I thought we had this conversation already? Harry and I are just friends."

"Listen, I've known you for a while now, right?" Maggie said.

"Sure."

"Well, in all that time, I've never seen you angry. Never. In fact, for a while I wondered if you were even human."

Abby stared at her in confusion. "What are you—?"

"Until today," Maggie continued. "You got angry at me. Over him. You were trying to protect him."

"Yes, because he's my  _friend."_

"Well, I'm your friend, too, aren't I?"

"And I would protect you, as well!"

Maggie folded her arms across her chest. "But would you do it as fiercely?" she said "Look, maybe you don't fancy him…yet. But you obviously care a great deal about him. We've known each other for the same amount of time, but I know he means more to you than I do."

"Jealous?" Abby said.

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever happens, just don't lie to yourself. Nothing good can ever come from that."

Abby opened her mouth to say something, but noticed that the girl had shifted her attention back to her mobile. So instead, she simply shook her head and walked away.

* * *

Harry knocked lightly on the bedroom door before poking his head in. "You all set?"

"Do you think Nan will let me set off a few of these Demon Dung Crackers that Uncle George gave me?" James asked, debating on whether or not he should put it in his rucksack.

"Erm…best not pack those, no," Harry said, grabbing the packet of fireworks from his son's hand and vowing to have a word with George later. "Where's your brother?"

James rolled his eyes and pointed to the floor where the only thing that could be seen of the boy was his bum sticking out from underneath the bed.

"Al?" Harry called. "What are you looking for, kiddo?"

"My Exploding Snap cards," came his muffled voice. "I'm missing all the manticores."

Harry took a seat on James' bed. "Look, I'll accio them in a bit, I'm pretty sure I know where they are, anyway. Can you pop out for a second, though? I want to talk to you both."

Al extracted himself slowly, his cheeks red and his hair looking like it had never seen a comb. "Are we in trouble?" he said, as they both sat down opposite him.

"No," Harry said. "I just, erm…wanted to ask you something."

"Go on, then," James said.

"Right, so usually when you lot go to the Burrow, I spend my nights here doing, well…nothing. I try to get some work done, I watch some telly, but I just get sort of bored, you know," he said, folding his hands tightly in his lap.

The boys exchanged a look. "Well I mean, I guess you could come with us…" James said uncertainly.

"No! No, that's not what I meant," he said, holding up a hand."What I'm trying to say is…It would nice if I could spend time with a friend…"

They both stared at him.

"Like Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione?" Al said.

"Yes, exactly," Harry said. "But the thing is, your Aunt and Uncle don't get that much time alone together, so they'll probably be too busy to hang out with me."

"Busy doing what?" James said in confusion.

"Er…you know, just some grown-up stuff."

"What sort of grown-up stuff?" Al said.

Harry rubbed the side of his face and exhaled a long breath. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned the conversation going.

"Do you mean like  _kissing_?" James said suddenly as both boys shared a look of disgust.

Harry smiled in relief. "Yes, yes exactly like kissing," he said, nodding his head in earnest. "So, you understand my problem, now?"

"Blimey, Dad," James said, sitting up straight as he stared at him with a pitying look. "I wouldn't want to hang out with them, either."

"What are you gonna do?" Al said, his eyebrows raised in concern.

"Well…luckily I have another friend," Harry said, trying to gauge their reaction.

They both looked at him in confusion for a moment, before realisation dawned on James' face. His features quickly transformed into a small scowl. "You mean Abby?"

Harry nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the boy's gaze. "Would it be all right with you two if I spent some time with her?" he said, his voice hesitant.

"Will there be kissing?"

"What?" Harry said. "No! No kissing. Zero kissing will be involved."

Both boys stared at him in silence, before breaking out into a small fit of giggles.

"I was just kidding, Dad," James said through his laughter. "We know you don't kiss."

Harry swallowed hard, watching them stand back up and resume their packing as if nothing had happened.

"Dad? You said you'd find my Exploding Snap cards," Al reminded him.

"Oh…right," he said, snapping out of his daze. "Yeah…I'll go do that."

He was about to walk out the door when he paused and turned back around. "But you're all right with, you know…Abby and I?"

"If you  _must,"_ James said, sighing dramatically and throwing on his hat on as he walked out of the room.

"My cards, Dad?" Al asked again.

Harry shook his head slightly to clear it and turned to face him "Yes, I have a feeling I know where they are. Follow me."

They both walked to the door at the end of the hall and Al let out a small noise of realisation. "I should have known!" he said, balling his fists up at his sides.

"Lily?" Harry called into the room. She looked up at him from her spot at the foot of the bed. "Do you know where the rest of Al's Exploding Snap cards are?"

"Why…?" she said slowly.

"Because I want them. You nicked them, didn't you? Give them back  _now_ , Lily!" Al exclaimed.

The girl's bottom lip quivered slightly as she looked up at Harry with large eyes.

"No! Don't you start! That's not fair, Dad," Al said, whipping around to face him. "She stole my stuff, you can't let her get away with it!"

"No one's getting away with anything," Harry said, putting an arm on his shoulder to calm him.

He then walked over and sat himself cross-legged on the floor in front of Lily. She immediately crawled over to his lap and let out very audible sniffles that may have fooled anyone else but him. She was a scarily good actress when she wanted to be.

"Lily, look at me," Harry said, pulling her chin up. "Did you take Al's cards?"

She shifted her eyes away from him and shrugged.

"I won't be mad if you just tell me the truth. Did you take them?"

"Maybe," she said in a small voice.

"There is no maybe," he said, shaking his head. "Only yesbe or nobe."

Lily giggled, throwing her head back against his arm

"So, which is it?" Harry said.

She mumbled something softly with a grin.

"What was that?" he said, leaning closer.

"YESBE!" she shouted, before dissolving into giggles again.

He gestured for Al to join them on the floor, and the boy sat down with a scowl on his face.

"I'm really glad you told me the truth," Harry said, looking her in the eye. "But, Lily, you can't just take people's stuff without asking. That's stealing, remember? And what did we say about stealing?"

"That I shouldn't," she said, her bottom lip jutting out a bit.

Harry let out small sigh. "That was the gist of it, yeah," he said. "Now, apologise to your brother."

She turned to face Al with a small pout on her face. "I'm sorry I stealed your stuff, Al. I just really like your toys."

"Well, maybe I'd let you play with them if you just  _asked_ ," he said, folding his arms across his chest moodily.

"Can you forgive her if she promises not to do it again?" Harry told him. "I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt your feelings, right Lils?"

"Right," she said with a quick nod.

Al sighed heavily. "Fine," he muttered. "But if she does it again-!"

"Then there'll be consequences," Harry said, looking at the girl with a stern expression. "But you won't do it again, will you, flower?"

"No," she said, shaking her head with earnest.

"Good. Now go give Al a hug, and then I want you to collect everything that you have of his and give it back, do you understand?"

She immediately followed his instructions, squeezing her brother tightly before racing around the room and retrieving items from various nooks and crannies. When all of Al's belongings were back in their proper place, the three of them met James downstairs to floo to the Burrow.

Harry greeted the rest of the family briefly before locating his children once more to wish them goodbye.

"Dad?" James called, as he was about to turn away.

"Yeah?"

The boy gave him a small shrug. "Have fun."

Harry couldn't properly express the warmth that spread throughout his entire being with just those two words. So he simply nodded and hugged his son close to him, whispering a quiet "thank you" in his messy hair.

* * *

Harry smiled to himself as he leant against the railing, holding the mobile up to his ear and waiting.

"No. Way," came Abby's shocked voice on the other end of the line.

He chuckled softly. "Shouldn't you be asking who this is?"

"Of course I know who it is, you prat! I'm just surprised you didn't burn my phone number the second I gave it to you," she said. "Wait…this  _is_  Harry, right?"

"Unfortunately. Now come downstairs, I'm here."

"Is it chilly outside?"

"It's mild," he said, looking around.

"But do I need a jumper?"

"Do you usually wear jumpers when it's mild?"

"Your mild might be something very different to my mild."

"Okay, here's an idea. Why don't you walk down the stairs, through the front door, step outside for a bit, and then make the decision, yourself."

"...Well, no need to get shirty with me."

He rolled his eyes. "Just hurry up," he said before ending the call.

He slipped his mobile back into his pocket, and folded his arms across his chest as he waited. The front door of the building opened a few moments later, revealing a smug looking Abby, clad in a dark blue jumper.

"I knew I shouldn't trust your mild," she said, walking up to him. "And you're wearing long sleeves. What if I walked out here with a t-shirt?"

"Then you'd be an idiot. T-shirts are for hot days, not mild days. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone knows that," she mocked him in a low voice. "My name is Harry and I'm so clever."

"You're hilarious."

"Thanks," she said with a grin. "So, what do you want to do?"

Harry shrugged. "I was kind of hoping you'd think of something. You're usually full of ideas, aren't you?"

"Let's walk for a bit," she decided. "Walking is nice."

He followed her down the steps and onto the pavement, wondering if she actually had any destination in mind or if she intended on walking aimlessly throughout the city for the rest of the night. He wouldn't mind either way, he supposed.

"They're not too fond of me, are they?" she said, breaking a small bout of silence.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming you mean my children?"

She nodded. "Not that I blame them, of course. I'm not very good at first impressions."

He let out a small chuckle. "Not really, no," he said. "But it's got nothing to do with that, trust me."

Abby shifted her eyes downward, gazing at her shoes as she walked. "I know," she said softly.

Harry was struck by the uncharacteristic seriousness of her tone. And he wasn't sure how or why, but he believed her.

"What are they like?" she said, looking up at him with a smile. "When they're at home with you, when they're completely themselves?"

Harry considered her question for a moment. "Well…Lily is Lily. She's pretty transparent," he said with fondness. "She's got an attitude that's twice the size of her, but usually it's only directed at me and her brothers. Otherwise, she's this incredibly sweet and polite little girl that melts everyone's hearts."

Abby grinned, eagerly taking in his every word.

"Then there's Al. Much more quiet, and loves to read. He's hard-working and extremely clever, really cares about his schoolwork. But more importantly in my opinion, he's exceptionally kind and considerate of other people's feelings."

"And James?" she said, looking up at him.

"James is…so many different things," he said, exhaling softly. "He loves to joke around and play pranks and cause trouble. And he doesn't always follow the rules and he picks on his brother way too much…"

"But?"

"But he has the biggest heart," Harry said with fervour. "Sometimes he's eight years old. Then other times…it's like he's older than me."

Abby stared at him intently.

"And I hate it," Harry said, looking down at the ground.

"Why?" she breathed.

"Because he's just a child," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "He's my son, but sometimes it's like we're equal. He worries about me all the time, and I hate it…I hate it  _so much."_

He let out a deep breath and shook his head. "Perhaps I've said enough," he said.

"He loves you," Abby said.

"What?"

"Your son loves you," she said, looking him in the eye. "I've only met him once, but I can see it as clear is day. He adores you, they all do."

Harry didn't respond, but she continued anyway.

"You can't blame yourself for what happened. It's not your fault that he's had to grow up too soon. But despite what he's been through, what you've all been through…He's still a child, Harry," she said, her tone almost reverent. "You said it yourself. He breaks the rules and he plays pranks and he's a child! The fact that he can still be one, that he can still laugh and be happy and still love you as much as he does is so utterly incredible that I—I just…"

She shook her head, her brows creased in concentration as if she were trying to work out a difficult problem.

"You what?" Harry said quietly.

Abby stared him straight in the eyes with a determined look on her face. "I admire you for that."

It was such a simple thing to say. But he found that Abby sometimes had a way of making the simplest things sound strange. And the strangest things sound so marvellously simple.

"I really do, Harry. And I don't know much about…about their mother," she said carefully. "But I just know that she'd be so very proud of you. Of all of you."

Harry looked at her, letting a small breath escape his lips. He wasn't sure if he could express it out loud, so he tried his hardest to convey through his eyes just how much her words meant to him.

"Ginny," he whispered. "Her name was Ginny."

Abby nodded, her eyes looking a bit shiny. "I'm going to hug you now. Is that all right? If it isn't…well that's just too bad."

And just like that, she had her arms wrapped around him, holding onto him tightly as her head rested near his heart.

And he hugged her back. Because he wanted to. Because she listened and she cared and she didn't have to.

Who was this strange girl? Harry wondered.

He had absolutely no idea. But for the first time, he really wanted to find out.


	14. Chapter 14

It was midnight, but he didn't feel like sleeping. Why did he have to sleep, anyway? It was the weekend. If he just lay here in bed all night and stared at the ceiling, no one would ever know.

Maybe that would get boring…

But he  _couldn't_ sleep. He'd tried. But he just couldn't. Not when he kept thinking.

James Potter rolled over on his side and stared at the figure in the bed across from him.

"Freddie," he whispered loudly.

No response.

" _Psst_. Freddie!" he tried again, this time louder.

Nothing.

James sighed. He didn't want to have to do this. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Whatever that meant.

He picked up his pillow and chucked it at the sleeping boy causing him to sit up straight in his bed with wide eyes.

"What the—?"

"Sorry," James said. "You didn't answer."

"What time is it?" Freddie said, rubbing at his eyes. "It's still dark outside! Why did you wake me?"

James looked around a bit guiltily. "Er…"

"You're mental, you are," the boy said, punching his pillow lightly before laying his head back down and attempting to fall back asleep.

"Wait, no!"

Freddie opened his eyes. "What?"

James swallowed. "I can't sleep."

"Count the flobberworms."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

Freddie sighed in exasperation. "Count the flobberworms. That's what my dad always says. It's supposed to help you sleep."

"Well…I don't see any flobberworms."

"You're supposed to imagine them."

"What do they look like?"

"I dunno."

James frowned, thinking that this wasn't the best advice.

"Hey, Freddie…" he asked after a bit.

" _What."_

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go on."

James sat up in his bed, squinting in the darkness. They were in Uncle George's old room. That's where they always slept. Well…it was Uncle Fred's old room, too. But they didn't know Uncle Fred. They knew  _about_  him. They heard stories, lots of them. But it wasn't really the same.

He focused his attention back on his cousin who was already starting to doze off again. "Does your dad have friends?" he said.

Freddie propped himself up on his elbow and stared at him questioningly. "Yeah, loads of 'em," he said.

James shifted his eyes to the bedside table where he'd left his mobile lying. His dad had given it to him a couple of years ago. He never used it. He usually just stuffed it inside his rucksack. But he'd left it on the bedside table tonight.

"Do you know all of them?" he said.

Freddie shrugged. "Dunno. There's Lee and Alicia and Katie," he numbered off on his fingers. "And Verity from the shop. And Oliver Wood. You know Oliver Wood?"

"Of course I know Oliver Wood," James said with an eye-roll.

"And loads more," the boy ended with another shrug. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason."

Freddie gave him a strange look.

"Do they hang out a lot?" James said, not meeting the boy's eyes.

"I guess…They're all friends with my mum, too. Most of the time they just come over."

"And—I mean...what do you do when they come over? Does your dad talk to his friends more than you?"

"What's with all the questions?" Freddie demanded, sitting up straight in the bed now and peering at him.

"I told you,  _no reason,"_  James said through gritted teeth.

"Well, you're being weird."

"You're being stupid," he bit back, feeling very annoyed all of a sudden.

Freddie exhaled loudly. "Whatever. I'm going back to sleep."

"Fine!"

James rolled over on his other side, staring at the wall instead. He didn't even know why he'd asked. He just couldn't sleep and he was thinking too much. And thinking was annoying.

He closed his eyes forcefully, trying to imagine a flobberworm, but it was useless. He didn't know what flobberworms looked like.

He turned his head a bit to look over his shoulder, eyeing the mobile shrewdly. Maybe his dad knew what a flobberworm looked like?

 _I should call him_ , James thought.

But what if he was asleep? What if he wasn't home? He could still be out doing whatever it was he was doing with  _her._

James grimaced, reaching over for the mobile with newfound resolve and dialling the number like his dad had showed him.

He waited impatiently as it rang in his ear.

"Hello? James?"

He relaxed slightly upon hearing his dad's voice. "Are you awake, Dad?"

"Yeah, I just got into bed. Is everything all right? Why aren't you asleep?"

James shifted his eyes around. "Er…I was just wondering something."

"What were you wondering?" he said in confusion.

"What does a flobberworm look like?"

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Well…they're brown and…sort of longer and fatter than your average worm. Rather dull creatures. Actually, funny story about that," he said with amusement in his voice. "Back in my third year at Hogwarts…"

James settled himself back against his pillow, holding the phone firmly to his ear with a pleasant smile on his face. He always liked listening to his dad's stories. Even the ones that didn't have to do with trolls and basilisks and dragons. Sometimes, he just really enjoyed hearing about his dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione playing Quidditch and visiting Hagrid and going to classes and being  _normal._

James slowly felt his eyes getting heavier the longer he listened. At some point, the mobile slipped from his ear, but he was too tired to pick it back up. He snuggled closer into his pillow, and he could have sworn he'd heard his dad's voice sounding softly from the phone next to him just before he finally drifted off to sleep.

"…Goodnight, Jamie. I love you."

* * *

James woke up the next morning, squinting his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the window. He wondered briefly what had awakened him when the answer came in the form of loud knocking on the bedroom door.

"I said get  _up_ , you lumps!"

He buried his head further underneath the covers, not quite ready to start the day just yet. Didn't people understand that he needed his sleep? He was a growing boy!

"James, Freddie!"

He heard the door opening and the sound of footsteps stomping into the room, before his covers were swiftly pulled back, revealing the annoyed face of Dominique Weasley.

"Leave me alone," he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"No," she said in a firm voice, heading over to Freddie's bed. "Everyone else is awake and breakfast is ready. So, get up."

"You're not the boss of us!" Freddie said as she tried to pull his pillow away from his grasp.

"I'm older," she said.

"By a year," James said, scowling at her. "That hardly counts."

"It counts just fine, I think," she said, turning around to give him a smug look. "Now, you two idiots better be downstairs in five minutes or I'll tell Nana who fed the gnomes some Bertie Bott's beans yesterday."

"As if she doesn't already know!" Freddie called behind her as she walked out of the room.

The boys exchanged a look of annoyance, before both silently deciding that it was time to head downstairs. This of course, had nothing to do with their older cousin's threat and everything to do with the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

"At last! The guests of honour have arrived," Nana Molly said, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head as she spotted them walking down the stairs. "One of these days, you'll wake up and there'll be no more food left."

"Dom doesn't eat  _that_ much, Nana," James said easily, causing Freddie to snicker beside him as they both took a seat.

The girl in question sneered at him from the other end of the table before returning back to her conversation with Rose.

"Morning, Weasleys!" Grandad Arthur greeted them, walking in from the back door with a large smile on his face.

"And Potters!" Lily squeaked.

"And Potters, of course! I could never forget my lovely Potters," the man said, swooping down to give Lily a kiss on the cheek.

Everyone knew Lily was Grandad's favourite. He loved all his grandchildren equally, but she was always a bit special. James never really understood why until Victoire mentioned once that it was probably because she looked a lot like their mum.

And everyone knew that their mum had been Grandad's favourite.

"Oh, do I have a treat for you lot, today," Grandad said, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

"What is it?" Rose said.

"A surprise," he said with a smile. "Once you all finish your breakfast, you can come meet me outside the shed."

They watched him practically skip back through the door once more.

"What do you reckon it is?" Freddie asked him.

James shrugged. "Probably some muggle thing."

"I just hope it's not a ruddy vacuum again. You remember that thing? Nan made us clean the sitting room with it after we tracked dirt all over the place."

"Ugh, don't remind me," James said, holding up his hand.

He and Freddie were the last to finish up their breakfast, partly because they woke up so late and partly because they just wanted to annoy Dom who was complaining loudly that they were holding everyone up. When they were finally finished, they all headed outside, excited to find out what their grandfather's surprise was.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man said in a theatrical voice once they were all seated on the grass. "I present to you…the  _bi-sickle!"_

James watched with a frown as his grandad wheeled out a small red bike from the shed. Bikes were great and all, but he saw them all the time in the streets. Loads of people used them.

"What is it for?" little Molly said, her eyes wide.

"You ride on it," Rose told her. "You sit on that seat there and move the pedals with your feet."

"But why?" Roxy said in confusion.

James rolled his eyes. How could they have never seen a bike before?

"To get from one place to another," Rose said with a shrug. "It's like of like a broom, but on the ground."

"I'd rather the broom," Freddie said.

"It's for muggles, stupid," James told him. "And you can't even ride a broom yet."

"So," the boy said with a shrug. "I'm sure it'd be more fun than riding that thing around."

" _Can_ we ride it, Grandad?" Rose said.

James perked up at this. He'd never ridden a bike before, but it always looked pretty fun.

"I don't know about that, Rosie," Grandad said with a look of regret. "I'd like to learn myself before allowing any of you lot on it.

James immediately deflated, leaning back against his arms and feeling very unimpressed as he listened to his grandad explain all about how he came upon this 'marvellous muggle contraption'. Everyone else seemed to be listening with rapt attention, even Rose and Al who definitely knew just as much about bikes as he did.

A sudden thought struck him that caused a small smile to grow on his face.

"Freddie," he whispered so nobody else could hear.

"What?"

"What do you say we have a go on it once everyone's gone?" he said.

The boy grinned back at him mischievously. "I like the way you think."

They waited until their grandad was back in the house, taking Lily, Molly, and Hugo with him. Dom, Rose, and Roxy had thankfully retreated into the orchard, but that still left—

"What were you two whispering about?" Al asked, staring at the both of them with one eyebrow raised.

Louis, who unfortunately followed his annoying little brother around like a shadow, stood steadfastly by the other boy's side.

"I don't think that's any of your business," James said, folding his arms across his chest.

"We won't tell anyone," Al said.

James and Freddie let out a simultaneous bark of laughter.

"Yeah, and I'm Rowena Ravenclaw," Freddie said.

"We won't!" Louis said. "We just want to play with you."

James ruffled the boy's blonde hair in a patronising fashion. "Look, why don't you two run along and play with your gobstones or something, yeah? Leave the fun stuff to us."

"I'll tell Dad you wouldn't let us play!" Al said, scowling at him.

James groaned loudly. "We're just going to ride the blasted bike, all right?" he said.

"Jaaames!" Freddie said, throwing his head back.

"What? He's never going to shut up about it," he said, looking at his brother in annoyance. "Just don't tell anyone or I swear…"

Al rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"Could've fooled me. Come on, then. Let's go."

The four boys crept quietly toward the shed, glancing about their surroundings as they went.

"Freddie, go stand by the back door and make sure no one comes out," James said quietly. "Al, keep a lookout for Dom or Rose. They're in the orchard with Roxy."

Both boys nodded and rushed toward their posts.

"What should I do, James?" Louis whispered.

He looked down at the young boy and grinned. He was small. Smaller than Al even and they were nearly the same age. "You have the most important job."

A few seconds later found James attempting to boost Louis up on his hands so that the boy could squeeze in through the shed window.

"Make sure you land on the desk," James warned as he gave one final push. He heard a soft thump as the boy landed on the other side. "You okay?"

"Fine," Louis said.

"Brilliant. Now, just unlock the door and your work is done."

Louis did as he was told, and James rushed past him as the door opened and went to retrieve the bike. He wheeled it around to the front of the house with the rest of the boys following in his wake and stopped near the side of the open road.

"Who goes first?" Freddie said.

They all stared at each other.

"I'll do it," James said. "Might be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Louis said, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Maybe. Can't have fun without a little bit of risk, though, eh Fred?" James said, grinning at his cousin.

"Right you are, James," Freddie said with a smirk.

James positioned himself carefully and took a firm grip of the handlebars. It couldn't be that hard, could it? Muggles kids rode bikes all the time.

"Be careful," Al said as he wobbled slightly on the bike seat.

He gave him a thumbs up and then took a deep breath in, lifting his feet off the ground and placing them on the pedals. He was stationary for about a second before the bike toppled over with him landing in a heap on top.

"Ow."

The boys rushed over to help pick him back up. "Good thing you went first, mate," Freddie said, brushing off the back of his shirt.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Louis said backing away from them a bit.

"Don't be such a worrywart," James said in exasperation. "Here, let me try again. Except this time, someone hold onto the bike until I can go on by myself."

He repeated the process once more with Freddie holding onto one of the handles and the seat while James carefully started pedalling.

"He's doing it!" Louis said as they followed alongside.

They kept pedalling for a few metres until he told Freddie to let go.

"Are you sure?" the boy said.

"Of course, I'm sure."

Freddie gave him a look of uncertainty but complied. To everyone's surprise, including his own, James kept going. It was an exciting feeling. It didn't even feel like he had to do much work. It was almost as if the bike was moving itself.

"James, you're using magic!" Al yelled out.

"What?" he said, turning his head back to look at his brother.

"You're using magic," he repeated. "Look, the pedals are glowing."

James looked down and sure enough, there was a soft blue light erupting near his feet, and he could feel them vibrating slightly. He stopped pedalling at once, fulling expecting to fall over again, but the bike remained rooted to the spot.

"Blimey," Freddie breathed, as the others came to a stop next to him. "I didn't know accidental magic could actually come in useful. I usually just make things explode."

But James only frowned as he hopped off and turned to look at the bike. "I thought I was doing it by myself," he said in disappointment. "Whatever. Who's next? Fred?"

The boy chuckled. "No thanks. Not after I saw your first try. I don't trust my magic enough to save me."

"Chicken," James said with a grin.

"I'll do it," Al spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"All riiiight," Freddie said, nodding his head with a sly look on his face.

"No," James said, holding a hand up.

"What, why?" Al demanded.

James gave him a hard stare. "Al, you know you don't do accidental magic like I do," he told him quietly. "You always keep yours in control. What if it doesn't help you like it helped me?"

"If you get to try, then so can I," the boy said, crossing his arms in defiance. "Freddie can hold onto the handlebars again."

James clicked his tongue softly. He didn't have a good feeling about this.

"You're not my  _dad_ ," Al muttered through gritted teeth so only he could hear.

"Never said I was," James said, glaring at him.

Al walked over to the bike and gave him a look as if challenging him to say something about it. But James remained silent.

Freddie proceeded to hold onto the bike as he'd done previously while Al slowly began to pedal. It was going smoothly so far. As long as the Freddie didn't let go, everything would be fine.

"Let go, Freddie, let go!" Louis called from the side-line.

"Wha—no, don't!" James said.

But Freddie apparently wasn't listening or just didn't care, for he swiftly removed his hands and moved out of the way, letting Al carry on by himself.

To everyone's amazement, the boy remained upright. He'd stopped pedalling for a bit as the road began to slope downwards. But he was moving fast.

Too fast.

"Al, stop before you go down the hill!" James shouted, running towards him.

"How do I stop?" the boy cried over his shoulder.

"I—I don't know."

"James, I can't stop! JAMES!"

James watched with horror as his brother quickly lost control and plummeted hard into the ground in a tangle of limbs and metal. He slid down the road for a bit before he finally came to a halt, lying immobile on the ground.

"ALBUS!" he yelled, running down to him as fast as he could.

James quickly removed the bike from underneath him and found that the boy's knees and elbows were all scratched up and bleeding.

"Are you all right?" he said.

Al opened his eyes slowly and blinked up at him. "My arm…"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It hurts…" he said, his eyes a bit watery.

James looked up at the sound of his cousins approaching.

"Is he all right?" Freddie said, slightly out of breath.

"Go get Nan, now," James ordered, not bothering to answer.

The boy did as he was told and immediately rushed back up the hill with Louis following after him.

"Don't worry," James said, gulping slightly. "Nan will fix you up."

"We're going to be in so much trouble," Al moaned.

"Is that really all you're worried about right now?" he said in exasperation.

Sure James wasn't thrilled about getting in trouble. But he was used to it. The thought of something happening to his brother because of  _him,_ on the other hand _,_  was much more worrying. He felt utterly rotten. This was all his fault. His stupid, ruddy fault. If he hadn't suggested stealing the bike, none of this would have ever happened.

"I'm sorry, Al," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"It's my fault you're hurt."

"I thought it was my fault," Al said looking slightly surprised. "You told me not to ride it, but I did."

For a moment, James considered agreeing with him in order to save his own neck, but he knew he'd just end up feeling even more rotten. "Well, yeah, that part was your fault, you git," he said. "But I should have never stolen the bike in the first place."

Al merely grimaced in response, holding his arm close to his body. "I really wish Nana would hurry," he said, his voice a little shaky as he wiped away at his eyes.

As if hearing her own name, the woman immediately appeared up the road, rushing down towards them with Freddie and Louis trailing behind.

" _James Potter!_ "

He gulped audibly in response, not liking the fierce look on his grandmother's face. She could be downright scary.

"Explain!" she said, kneeling down next to Al and examining every inch of him.

With the help of Freddie, they both gave a very brief summary of events that caused the already angry flush on the woman's face to deepen in colour.

"We're going to have to get you to St. Mungo's," she said, clicking her tongue. "It looks like you may have broken your arm."

"St. Mungo's?" Al whined. "Can't you mend it?"

"I'm sorry, dear, but limbs are tricky business. I can do cuts and scrapes, even a nose or two. But you're going to need a proper healer for this. I can help ease the pain a bit until we get there, but I can't do much after that," she said, waving her wand over him. The boy's face relaxed slightly, but he was still holding his arm close to his body. "Come on, then. Up you get. That's it."

Albus leaned up against the woman as they walked carefully back towards the house.

"And I'll be having a word with you two later," she said, looking pointedly at James and Freddie. "I'm very disappointed in the both of you."

James hated that word. Disappointed. He didn't mind people being upset or annoyed or angry at him. But disappointed was different.

"Arthur!" Nana called as soon as they entered the Burrow.

The man appeared from inside the sitting room and gave her a questioning look before laying his eyes on Albus.

"What happened?" he exclaimed.

"Fell of your wretched muggle gadget is what happened," she said, her lips pursed in a thin, angry line.

Grandad's face immediately went white, and James was filled with that nasty rotten feeling, once again.

"Molly, I—"

"Not now, we'll discuss it later! I need to get Al to St. Mungo's," she said in a rush. "Can you floo Harry for me while I—"

"No!" James said.

Everyone turned to look at him, and he felt his face heat up a bit.

His dad couldn't know about this! He couldn't know what James had done to his brother. It was bad enough that Nan was disappointed in him…

Disappointing his dad just felt a billion times worse.

"I-I mean…why bother him? Can't you just take him?" he said.

"James, this is no time to act foolish. Albus is in a lot of pain and needs to go to hospital, and your father needs to be there with him. Arthur, can you please go floo him now," the woman said, holding out her arm in the direction of the sitting room.

"But—but he might not be home!" James tried again.

"If that is the case, then we have other ways of contacting him," Grandad explained patiently, as if trying to calm the boy down.

James grimaced, shifting his eyes around the room as if looking for inspiration. He spotted the apple crumble that Nana had been working on while they were outside, and immediately snapped his head back to face them. "He might be with Abby!"

Both of the adults paused and looked at him with strange expressions.

"No matter who your dad might be with, I'm certain that his son's well-being will take precedence," she said. "Now, Arthur, if you would."

The man nodded his head as if in a daze and retreated back into the sitting room and toward the grate.

James swallowed hard. He wasn't sure why, but he got the feeling that he wasn't supposed to tell his grandparents about Abby. His dad never said  _not_ to, but…

He shook his head, feeling more and more rotten by the second.

* * *

Harry was sprawled on the couch, one leg hanging over the armrest and the other dragging across the floor as he gazed up at the essay he was currently attempting to mark. The eighth essay. And he still had four more.

The sound of the fireplace erupting caused him to jump slightly and drop the roll of parchment on his face.

"Harry?" called Arthur Weasley's voice. "Harry, are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here," he grunted, peeling himself off the couch and walking over to the grate.

"Oh good, you're home," the man said in relief.

Harry gave him a strange look. "Yeah…is something wrong?"

"It's Albus."

A shot of fear swept through him. "What is it, what happened?" he said.

"Well, he…the boys took my bi-sickle from the shed and decided it would be a good idea to try and ride it—"

"Your what?"

"My bi-sickle. It's a muggle vehicle with two wheels."

"Oh right, a bicycle," Harry said, nodding. His eyes went wide, however as the words sunk in. "Wait, they were riding on it? They don't how to ride a bike!"

"Exactly…Al took a heavy fall, and it looks as if he's broken an arm. He's at St. Mungo's with Molly as we speak—"

"I'll be right there," Harry said before the man could finish.

He apparated soon after to the hospital, passing through the window of the old, abandoned department store and walking hurriedly into the main reception area.

The witch at the front desk looked up when she heard him approaching, her eyes going wide and her expression paling.

"C-can I help you, Mr. Potter?" she breathed.

Well accustomed to strangers knowing him by sight, he pushed forth, wanting to get to Al as soon as possible. "My son was admitted not too long ago. I think it was a broken arm," he said.

"Right, of course, erm…yes, just hold on one second…let's see here," she said, pointing her wand at the large book in front of her. She seemed a bit frazzled, and Harry couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was young, and he had a reputation for being rather intimidating. Normally he'd just tell her to relax, but right now, he was in a bit of a hurry.

"Albus Potter," she said, finding his name rather quickly. "He's on the ground floor, room 137."

"Thank you," he said, before heading over to the corridor on the left.

"You're welcome," she squeaked behind him.

Harry walked with a purpose, not bothering to take in any of his surroundings. He hated St. Mungo's. Hated it with a passion. He hated the unsympathetic white walls and the healers with their obnoxious lime green robes. And the smell. That awful, sterile smell.

"Harry!"

He looked up to see Molly exiting a door up ahead.

"How is he?" he said, hurrying over to her.

"Fine, fine, just go to him," she said, pushing him through the door.

"Dad!"

Harry felt a rush of relief at the sight of his son sitting up in bed.

"How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" he said, hugging the boy carefully as he took a seat across from him.

"A little," Al said wtih a pout, leaning against Harry's arm and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"They mended the bone rather quick, but there's still a bit of inflammation. The healer said it would probably be sore for a couple more hours," Molly said, running her fingers through her grandson's hair. "That'll teach you boys not to listen to your grandfather!"

"What happened?" Harry said, looking down at his small face.

"It was my fault."

Harry glanced up in surprise and found James sitting on a chair in the corner. He hadn't even noticed the other boy was in the room.

"It was my idea to steal the bike," he said in a flat voice. "I tried riding on it first, and then Al had a go. But he was going too fast down the hill, and he fell off."

Harry exhaled heavily, closing his eyes for a moment and rubbing at them with the heels of his hands. "That was very irresponsible of you. Of both of you," he said, looking between them. "You know you're not supposed to take things from your grandfather's shed without his permission. It's dangerous, James. And it's a miracle you didn't get hurt as well!"

"He used magic," Al said quietly.

"What?"

"That's how I was able to stay up," James said. "With accidental magic."

Molly let out a small huff. "Well, thank Merlin for that."

"I told Al he shouldn't have a go, but the git didn't listen," James said.

"Why should I listen to you? You're not the boss of me."

"I wasn't trying to be!"

"Oh,  _sure_ ," Al said, glaring at him. "All you do is boss people around!"

"Yeah, well I was right, wasn't I?" James said in a heated voice. "You fell off and got hurt. Your magic didn't save you!"

"SHUT UP!" Al yelled suddenly, the veins in his neck popping out. "JUST SHUT UP!"

A shocked silence fell across the room.

Harry stared at the boy intently. He couldn't remember ever seeing him so angry before. And there was something in his eyes, some sadness hidden there that shook Harry to the very core. And he had no idea what was causing it.

"James, dear. Why don't you and I head back to the Burrow," Molly said, pulling him into her side and rubbing his arm. "Your father and Al will come by later for dinner, won't you Harry?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry said.

He flashed James a small smile as he followed his grandmother out of the room.

"Al…" Harry said, once they were alone. He leaned his head down a bit to try and get the boy to make eye contact.

Al sniffled in response, wiping at his eyes with his good arm. "What," he mumbled.

"Do you want to tell my why you're upset?"

"No."

"Was it something James said?"

"Dunno."

"Come on, Alby. If something's upsetting you, you need tell me," Harry said. "It'll make you feel better, I bet."

His words were followed by silence for a moment, and then Al finally snapped his head up.

" _Why can't I do magic?"_  he said, his tone sounding almost desperate. "James does magic all the time!"

Tears were quickly escaping the boy's eyes, and he hunched over, wrapping his arms around his knees and shaking slightly as he continued to cry.

To say that Harry was surprised would be an understatement. This was the last thing he ever expected to hear. Al had never said anything about his magic before.

"Al…" he said softly, rubbing his son's back. "Everybody's different. Some kids just do more accidental magic than others."

"But I never do it!" he said. "Even when I'm upset or scared or anything! James thinks I can control it better, but I'm not controlling it all. I just can't  _do_ it!"

Harry swallowed hard.

"What if I'm not even a wizard?" Al said in a small voice.

"You are," Harry said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You most certainly are a wizard. You've done magic before, Al. You used to do it all the time when you were a baby."

"So why have I stopped?" the boy demanded, looking up at Harry with red-rimmed eyes.

Harry stared back at him with his mouth open slightly, at a complete loss for words.

"I don't…I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "But I told you, everyone's different. You can't compare yourself to James or anyone."

"But what's the point of having magic if it can't even save me from falling off a stupid bike," Al said, slamming his fist against the bed. "I thought it would…I really thought…"

Harry felt his heart constrict at the look on Al's face. He hated that he couldn't give him a proper answer. It made him feel terrible and useless and he wished more than anything that he could take all the pain away.

"You're a wizard, Albus," he said, his voice filling with emotion as he held the boy's head in his hands and stared straight into his green eyes. "I  _promise_  you, you're a wizard."

* * *

Al was discharged from the hospital with plenty of time to spare before dinner. Even though Harry's words had seemed to have a positive effect on him, he still wasn't completely back to his normal self. Harry just hoped that being back with his cousins might cheer him up a bit.

When they arrived at the Burrow, Molly rushed over to give Al a warm, welcoming embrace. "I made you some vanilla custard, just the way you like it," she said, stroking a thumb across his cheek affectionately.

"Can I have it now?" he said in excitement.

"Perhaps a small taste before dinner," she said, giving him a wink.

Harry smiled as he followed them both inside and took a seat at the table.

"I think that's small enough of a taste, Al," he said as the boy was about to go in for his fifth spoonful.

Al frowned but didn't argue.

"You can have plenty more after dinner," Molly said, rubbing his back. "Why don't you go run along outside, dear. I'm sure your cousins will be happy to see that you're all better now."

He nodded his head and rushed out through the back door and into the garden.

"And be careful!" Harry called out.

Molly seated herself in the chair across from him, passing over a mug of steaming hot tea.

"Thanks," Harry said with a small smile.

"You looked like you needed some."

He placed his hands around the mug and stared at it intently. "Yeah…maybe I do."

"How was he? After we left," she said.

Harry exhaled heavily, throwing his head back to gaze at the ceiling.

"What is it, dear?" Molly said, her voice filled with concern.

He closed his eyes. "Al doesn't think he's a wizard," he said. "He wanted to ride the bike to test if his magic would protect him."

"Oh, that foolish boy," she said, clicking her tongue. "Of course he's a wizard! He was only eight months old when he silenced the ghoul upstairs for being too loud while was trying to have his nap. Not to mention all the other countless objects he broke or banished whenever he had a tantrum. I still can't find my butterfly broach after all this time!"

"But that's the thing," Harry said, lifting his head back up to look at her. "He hasn't done magic in years. Not since he was a toddler at most. I mean…is that okay? Is that normal?"

She stared at him with her eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Not even once?" she said.

Harry swallowed thickly, staring at a blank spot on the wall behind her. "One time only," he said.

He knew that Molly understood when exactly he was referring to. The shadow that passed over her eyes had most likely been reflected in his.

"But never again after that," he said.

Molly stood up and headed over to the kettle. "More tea?"

"No, thank you," he said out loud, as she was facing with her back toward him.

Harry pretended not to notice the way she kept periodically brushing at her eyes.

When she finally sat back down again, she reached over and took his hand in hers. "He's still young, Harry. There's plenty of time for his magic to grow and mature," she said. "And when he turns eleven, he'll get his letter just like everyone else, and he'll take Hogwarts by storm, I'm sure."

"Poor Minerva won't know what to do with all those Weasleys and Potters," she added, her eyes shining.

Harry let out a small sniff of amusement. "Probably retire by then."

"I wouldn't blame her," Molly said, her smile filled with mirth.

They sat in silence for a long time after that, both lost deep in their own thoughts.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" he said, staring off into space.

"May I ask you something?"

He looked up at her in question, noting how her expression seemed a bit hesitant. "Of course," he said.

"James…well, he mentioned something this morning," she said, staring into his eyes. "Or more specifically…some _one_."

Harry gazed at her in confusion for a moment, before it suddenly dawned on him. And all at once, he felt like a teenager again. Sitting in front of his best mate's mum about to be interrogated. In fact, he could specifically remember sitting in this exact same spot at the kitchen table after she'd caught him and Ginny taking a nap together on the couch for the first time. They'd been in a rather close embrace.

That discussion had ended amicably enough, of course. If you didn't count the overwhelming embarrassment he'd had to endure throughout it. But Harry had a feeling that this conversation would be a bit more difficult.

"Someone named Abby," Molly said.

Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah…she's a friend of mine," he said.

Molly peered at him over her mug as she took a sip of tea, and he just knew he had no choice but to tell her everything. So he did. It was bit exhausting having to explain it all a third time around, but he supposed that's what he deserved for trying to keep secrets. At this point, he just didn't care anymore. There was nothing left to hide. There'd never  _been_  anything to hide. But he couldn't help it. That's just what he did. He hid everything.

"And before you ask…no, I don't fancy her," he said, holding up a hand. "She's just a friend. I'm allowed to have friends, aren't I? And yes, she's a muggle. Doesn't know who I am or what I've done, and quite frankly, that makes me like her even more. I only see her for about twenty minutes every day. Not exactly life-altering. So really, I don't see what all the fuss is about. But there you go."

"Oh, and also," he added. "Go on and let everyone else know as well. Please. I'm done tip-toeing around the subject."

Harry took a deep breath in and then let it out, feeling surprisingly relieved to get that off his chest. He didn't even realise it had been on his chest, to begin with.

"All right."

He snapped his head up.

Molly was staring at him with a mildly amused look on her face.

"What—that's all you have to say?" he said, feeling a bit miffed despite himself. He did just pour out his heart over here.

"What else would you like me to say, dear?" she said.

"Well…I don't know. I mean, Hermione was practically drilling me with questions when I told her. And James seemed to be under the impression that I was planning on disowning him or something."

Molly sighed, a gentle smile appearing on her face that looked so motherly, it caused a pleasant warmth to spread in his chest.

"Harry…" she said, saying his name with affection. "All that matters to me is your happiness. I just want to see you smile. I  _long_ for your smiles."

She paused for a moment, clasping his hand in hers. "You deserve everything good in this world. And if this woman makes you happy, then I will welcome her with open arms. I know you say that you don't have romantic feelings for her, but I just want you to understand that…that you don't have to be afraid of falling in love again," she said, looking him in the eye. "You won't lose her, Harry…I know my little girl will always be in your heart."

Her eyes were like glass as she gazed at him. And for once, she didn't try to hide the tears that were threatening to fall down her face. It was almost as if she trusted that he wouldn't fall along with them.

* * *

"When you're finished with your coffee, come to the back room. I have something for you."

Harry glanced up at Abby with one eyebrow raised. "I don't think you realise how ominous that sounded."

She frowned as she considered her words.

"There it is," Harry said, as a look of comprehension dawned on her face.

"Oh, I'm not going to murder you," she said.

"Good," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

She gave him a playful glare before heading over to another table.

Harry watched her go about her duties as he finished off the rest of his coffee. He couldn't help but feel curious about what she was going to show him, so he caught her eye across the room before standing up and heading in her direction. She led him to a small cloakroom in the back, making sure not to catch the attention of her boss.

"In here," she whispered, shifting her head to the left and right.

"Is that really necessary?" he said.

"Oh, you suck the fun out of everything," she said in her normal voice.

Harry watched her dig through what he assumed was her bag, and then pull out a small box.

"What is it?" he said.

Abby turned around with a bright smile. "It's a Batgirl action figure. For Lily!" she said. "I remember her telling me how much she liked Batman, and I thought, hey, why not try for some girl power?"

She handed the box over to him, and Harry stared at it with warm smile. "You didn't have to do this," he said, looking up at her.

"I wanted to," she said with a shrug. "I actually saw it in a shop window on my way to work this morning, and I immediately thought of her. I hope she likes it."

"She will, she'll love it," he said, nodding. "Thank you, Abby. Really…it means a lot."

"I hope you don't think I'm trying to bribe them or anything," she said. "Because I'm not…well, I sort of am…but that's not why I bought it…I think."

Harry chuckled. "You work in a shop filled with desserts," he said. "I think that ship already sailed."

She let out a pleasant laugh that rang throughout the small room, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the sound of it.

"Why's the light on in—?"

They both looked up to find the blonde-haired waitress, Margaret according to her name tag, staring between the two of them with something akin to surprise and amusement on her features.

"What are you doing…?" she said slowly.

"It's not what it looks like!" Abby said, pushing Harry roughly into the wall.

"What the hell!" he said, wincing slightly as a pain shot through his elbow.

"You sure about that?" the other girl said, ignoring him. "Cause it definitely just looks like Harry, here, is showing you his toy. And I mean that in the most innocent way possible."

Harry whipped his head up, wondering for a second how on earth she even knew his name, before realising that the answer to that question had just thrown him against a wall.

"Yeah, but I've always wanted to use that line," Abby said, giggling to herself as if enjoying her own private joke. "You know…like in the films."

"Right…well, I'll just leave you two to your playdate, then," the girl said, giving him a smirk before walking out of the room.

"I hate you," Harry said.

Abby gave him an apologetic grin. "Sorry," she said. "At least you got to meet Maggie though."

"It was a real pleasure," he said.

"Well, I say 'meet', but you've sort of met her already, haven't you?" she said, as they walked back toward his table.

"Yeah, I liked her. She never used to talk to me," he said, giving Abby a look.

"Oops," Abby said, chuckling in response.

They both sat down, and Harry opened up the morning paper, wordlessly handing over the crossword. She usually spent about five minutes perusing through the clues, filling in maybe two or three answers before giving up altogether.

"So…what's new with the Potters, then?" she said, tossing the puzzle aside.

"Why do we always have to talk about me?" he said, looking up at her. "Why can't we ever talk about you?"

"What, are you serious?" she said with a snort. "Harry, I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been talking about myself since we first met."

He leaned back against his chair, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring intently at her.

"What?"

"No, you haven't been. Not really," he said. "You talk about a lot of things, yeah. But…I still know barely anything about you."

Abby tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her face screwed up in confusion. "What do you want to know?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. There were plenty of things he wanted to know, but he couldn't figure out how to put them in words. She was just so…something. Something different. And he couldn't really comprehend it. How she could be so bright and enthusiastic all the time? It didn't make sense to him at all.

"I want to know…" he began slowly. "I want to know how you're so happy all the time."

Abby gazed at him, her forehead creased in thought.

"Well, because I don't like being sad," she said.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Surely it can't be that simple."

She shrugged. "I never said it was simple. And it's definitely not easy. And I'm not happy, not all the time, nobody is. But I'm not sad all the time either," she said, before letting out a small sigh. "I'm sorry, Harry…I don't know if I can answer your question. I really wish I could."

He stared at for a moment before a small smile slipped on his face. "Well, fine. What's your favourite colour, then?"

Abby let out a laugh. "Purple," she said. "It's purple."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"And yours?" she said.

"Red," Harry said.

"Ooh, passionate."

"Very," he said, an image flitting across his mind's eye of beautiful red hair shining bright beneath the sunlight.

He closed his eyes, relishing that image in his mind until it filled him with such longing that, for a moment, he forgot where he was and what he was doing. He could only think of her.

"You all right, Harry?"

His eyes snapped back open, the entire weight of reality crashing back down upon him. But then he looked at Abby and smiled, and she smiled back. And reality didn't seem so heavy as it might usually do. And he wondered vaguely how he could possibly be happy, and yet so very sad at the same time.

No, it really didn't make sense at all.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a bright and sunny Friday afternoon as Harry walked along the cobble-stoned path of Diagon Alley, his head pointed downward to avoid the eyes of fellow witches and wizards passing by. He felt as if a dozen stares were boring holes into his back, but he paid them no mind as he led his feet swiftly to his destination.

Exhaling a tiny breath of relief, he pushed the door open, causing the bell to tinkle as he entered the shop. He spotted Ron by the till, hunched over a piece of parchment and sucking on the end of his quill as he screwed his face up in thought.

Harry smiled in amusement, thinking of all the times Ron had been in that exact same position during school while trying to work through a difficult homework assignment.

"How much for the Singing Trousers?" Harry said, disguising his voice.

"Two galleons, five knuts," Ron said, not bothering to look up.

"Whoa, mate…that's a bit steep, don't you think? I'll take it for nineteen sickles."

He could see Ron's jaw clench in annoyance as he jerked his thumb at a sign behind him that read 'No Haggling'. "Two galleons, five knuts," he repeated. "Take it or leave it."

"I'm not paying more than nineteen," Harry said. "Do you have any idea who I am? I could run this establishment down with a flick of my wand!"

Ron sighed loudly. "Look,  _mate_ , I don't care if you're the bloody reincarnation of Merlin. It's two galleons and— _Harry?"_

It was at that moment when Ron finally glanced up from his work to see Harry chuckling in amusement. "You prat! What are you doing here?" he said.

"Got off early from work and I thought I'd pay you a visit," Harry said, hopping up onto the counter. "Surprised?"

"More like  _astounded_ ," Ron said.

"Oh, don't be dramatic."

"I'm not," he said. "I could count on my fingers the amount of times you've visited the shop willingly. Why the sudden desire?"

Harry shrugged, staring down at his dangling feet. "I just felt like it."

It was the truth. He sometimes had the urge to visit Ron when work was getting too stressful or when he just wanted a good chat. But then he would think about Diagon Alley and the stares and the whispers and the pointing, and he would immediately push the thought out of his mind.

But today, he hadn't. Today, he just really wanted to spend time with his best mate. He'd been lonely, and it was a different kind of loneliness than he was normally used to. It was a simple kind. The kind where he just wanted the company of a friend.

Ron stared at him with his eyebrows furrowed, before his face melted into a grin. "Well, I'm glad you're here," he said, leaning back against the till with his arms crossed.

"Oh stop, I think I might blush."

"Why'd you get done early?" Ron said, ignoring him.

"Trainees had an exam all morning, so I gave them the rest of the day off," Harry said, bouncing one leg off the counter.

"And Morgana was okay with that?"

"She does whatever I say. I'm her superior."

Ron raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"All right, I got an earful," Harry said. "But I'm used to Davis's incessant arguing by now. She may be a thorn in my side, but at least I know how to handle her."

"I still say she fancies you," Ron said, folding his arms across his chest.

"No way, mate," he said with a laugh. "I'm telling you, you've got this one all wrong."

"No, see…it's like a love-hate sort of thing," Ron said. "You know, she trips you on the playground, but it really just means she's got a crush on you."

Harry gave him a look. "Yeah, except we're not five and she hates everyone, not just me."

Ron chuckled, grabbing a bouncy ball from the small basket on the counter and tossing it up and down. "Would be funny, though, wouldn't it?"

"More like horrifying."

He shrugged. "She doesn't even hate you, you know," he said, after a thoughtful pause. "From what I remember, anyway."

"You reckon?" Harry said, not really concerned either way.

"Yeah, I mean, compared to how she was with Robards…"

Harry grimaced at the thought. It was quite well-known around the department that the now retired Head Auror loathed the very sight of Tracey Davis. The feeling was perfectly mutual, of course. And Harry, being Robard's second-in-command during her first year of employment, was most often forced to play intermediary. He'd only just returned from his bereavement leave at the time, which made the situation infinitely worse, and even caused him to consider quitting the force all together. It was not a healthy work environment, to say the least.

The sound of the bell tinkling pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked to see a woman and what he assumed was her son entering the shop.

Harry hopped off the counter and out of sight, catching the attention of the boy who'd been staring around the colourful room in awe.

"Remember, just  _one_ thing, Martin," the woman said, holding his hand firmly in hers.

Harry gave the boy a kind smile as they walked by, causing him to pause abruptly in his step as recognition passed over his features.

"Sweetheart, what are you—"

"Mummy!"

"What is it?" she said, eyeing a Skiving Snackbox with distaste. "Just pick something, I don't have all day. "

"Mummy, look!" the boy said again, pulling his mother's arm. "It's Harry Potter!"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly wishing he'd escaped into the back room when he had the chance. Nevertheless, he turned to face them both with a forced smile. He usually dealt with these situations like ripping a plaster off a wound, quick and with the least amount of discomfort possible.

"Hello," he said.

"Oh my—Mr. Potter—I," the woman said, fumbling with the bags in her arms so she could pull out a hand to shake his. "Oh, it's simply lovely to see you!"

Harry returned the rather aggressive handshake half-heartedly.

"My name is Martha, Martha Tinsley," she said, placing a hand against her chest. "And this here is my son Martin. Say hello to Mr. Potter, Martin!"

"Hello, Mr. Potter," the boy said with a goofy smile, his eyes shining with a look of reverence that made Harry cringe.

"Hello," he repeated, giving a pointed look to Ron over his shoulder.

Ron seemed to understand as he cleared his throat and addressed the customers. "Erm...anything I can help you with?" he said loudly.

But the woman ignored him. "You look much thinner than in the photographs," she said, looking Harry up and down without any care for subtlety. "You know, there were all sorts of stories in the paper a while back saying how you weren't fit to run the auror force any more due to various reasons. But I  _told_ Gwendolyn, I said, it's all a load of rubbish. They were spouting things off about being physically and emotionally incapable, but I refused to believe it! Now that I'm seeing you in person, though, I have to admit, there may be a bit of truth to those words. Not that I don't still have  _complete_  faith in you, of course. We all go through our rough patches, eh?"

Harry didn't even bother hiding the unpleasant look on his face now, as he stared down at her coldly.

"Right, erm, have you got anything in mind, or are you just browsing?" Ron said, walking around to stand between the two.

The woman had the decency to look sheepish, as though her mind had suddenly caught up with her mouth. She avoided Harry's eyes for the rest of her very short trip, purchasing the first thing her son laid hands on and quickly leaving the shop.

"Blimey, can you stop by every day? I just made a 30 galleon sale!"

"Sod off, Ron," Harry said, his face set in a scowl.

Ron clicked his tongue. "Come on, mate, don't be like that. What's the big deal? It's not as if it's the first time."

"I don't care," he said in a sharp voice. "This is why I avoid Diagon Alley. And Hogsmeade, for that matter. They're just breeding places for idiocy."

Ron gave him a sympathetic look. "Do you think they'll ever leave you alone?"

"Not bloody likely. If it's not Voldemort, then it's Ginny. And if it's not Ginny, then it's my job or my children or my non-existent love affairs. And you know…I really thought one day it would all die down," he said, letting out a dry laugh. "How thick am I, eh?"

"Look," Ron said, trying to sound optimistic. "You never know. Maybe they'll finally get sick of you someday. I mean, you're really not that interesting."

Harry let out a small chuckle.

"Chin up, yeah?" Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Today's the first time in years you paid me a visit. Let's not ruin it because Martha Tinsley thinks you're a bit scrawny."

They both headed into the back room after that, sitting down on cardboard boxes as Ron summoned two cups of tea.

"You do know that tea doesn't make all your problems go away, yeah?" Harry said.

"Sure, but you can't deny that it's got soothing qualities," Ron said. "Now, drink up."

"Yes, Mum."

They sat there in a comfortable silence for some time, both lost in their own thoughts before Ron finally spoke up.

"I think I get it now."

Harry looked at him in confusion. "Get what?"

Ron placed his cup on one of the shelves, and then leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, staring up at Harry with a calculating expression. "I know, mate. Hermione told me. So did Mum…and pretty much everyone else in the family. News travels fast, you know."

Harry didn't need any further explanation. It was quite obvious what he was referring to. That didn't make him any less annoyed, however. "Well, I'm so glad my personal life has brought you all some entertainment," he said. "Did you guys make a nice little chat out of it over tea?"

"Stop it, Harry," Ron muttered, the tips of his ears going slightly red. "It's not like that. I didn't talk to anyone about it besides Hermione."

"Oh, well, I'm sure you both had plenty to say on the matter," he said, giving him a mocking smile. "Poor Harry, finally speaking to another human being whose surname isn't Weasley. The relief you must all feel. Maybe you're hoping I'll finally be normal again—"

"Would you shut the hell up!" Ron said, boring his eyes into his.

Harry clenched his jaw and looked away.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Ron said. "And you're not a burden either, you prat! You're my best friend. I just don't want you living the rest of your life as a hermit. Not because it's hurting me, because it's hurting  _you_."

Ron then let out a loud exhale. "When Hermione told me about that girl—"

"Abby," Harry said. "That's her name."

"Right, Abby," Ron said. "Well, when Hermione told me about her, I felt sort of happy for you, you know. Even though at first, I didn't really understand why you'd want to be friends with a muggle. But…well, I get it now."

"Do you?" he said, his eyebrows raised.

"It's like a fresh slate with her, isn't it?" Ron said. "She doesn't know anything about you. No hero-worship. No gossip. No pity. It must be nice, yeah?"

Harry stared down at the cup in his hands for a moment. "Yeah," he said, glancing back up at him. "Yeah, exactly."

Ron nodded, playing with a piece of thread on his magenta work robes. A hesitant look seemed to form on his face. "It's just…"

"What?" Harry said.

Ron let go of his robes and looked up to meet his eyes. "Do you think it's, well… _wise_?"

"What do you mean?" Harry said, wrinkling his forehead.

"Magic," he said. "That's a pretty big secret to keep, mate. Believe me, I know. It's torture seeing all of Hermione's family at Christmas and having to act like muggles. And the kids slip up sometimes, you know? They say things. Not to mention the accidental magic. It's just…it's not easy."

Harry shifted his eyes away, focusing on the wall behind him, instead. He'd never even considered this before. Was that foolish of him? It was always a notion in the very back of his mind. He was a wizard, she was a muggle. But he'd never given it much more thought after that. He'd only just told Abby that he had children, after all. The idea of telling her about magic seemed downright absurd.

But Ron was right. The kids could slip up,  _he_ could slip up.

And then what?

Harry allowed himself to picture, for the first time, what it would be like for Abby to know about the wizarding world. It would be scary and wonderful and intriguing and he couldn't help but smile at the thought.

She would love it.

He knew that with a certainty that overwhelmed him. She would  _love_  it.

"What if I told her?" he said, still gazing intently at the wall.

"What—about magic?" Ron said. "Harry, are you mental? You can't, mate! I mean, there're laws and things…"

Harry looked down, examining his fingers. "Well...laws have loopholes."

* * *

Abby trudged up the narrow staircase leading to her flat, feeling very much ready to collapse on her bed. Thoughts of her warm comforter brought a pleasant smile to her face. It was just a few more steps now.

Jiggling the doorknob slightly with her key (it only ever worked if you jiggled it), she unlocked the door and made her way quickly toward her room.

"Abby?"

She paused abruptly in her step. Resisting the urge to groan aloud, she turned around to face her flatmate. "Yes?"

"You got a phone call, earlier," Clara said.

Abby knitted her eyebrows in confusion. Who on earth would be calling her on the house phone? "Erm…who was it?" she said, when the girl didn't continue.

"Dunno," Clara said.

"Well, did they leave a message?"

"No."

"A number, then?" she said, starting to feel annoyed.

"Check the caller ID," the girl said with a shrug.

Abby rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. She didn't recognise any of the recent calls, which only annoyed her further. She really just wanted to go to bed. "Did they say anything?"

"He asked for you. I told him you weren't home. That was the end of it," Clara said, turning back to face the telly.

"It was a man?"

"Mhm."

Abby glanced down at the phone. "And you're sure he said nothing else?"

Clara sighed loudly. "I think I'd remember a five second conversation," she said, sounding annoyed now.

"Right…sorry. I guess I'll just call the number back, then."

"You do that."

Abby picked up the phone and headed to her room, mentally going through all the people that could possibly have her house number. It didn't take very long as there were maybe about two. And neither of them was male.

She sighed as she fell onto her bed, pressing the redial button and wishing that whoever it was wouldn't answer. She was starting to get hopeful when it rang for longer than normal, and she was just about to end the call when someone answered.

"Hello?"

Abby sat up quickly. "Erm, hi…" she said. "I got a call from this number earlier. My flatmate answered."

She shifted her eyes around the room, waiting for the man to respond. He was taking a rather long pause.

"Abigail?" he finally said.

"Yes, who is this?" she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

There was another pause, this one a bit shorter. "Did you ever get my letter?"

Her mouth opened slightly as she stared at a spot on the wall without really seeing it, an uncomfortable twisting sensation forming in her gut. She knew that voice now. It had been a long time. But not long enough.

"Don't call me again, please," she said quietly, hanging up the phone before he could get another word in.

Abby closed her eyes for a moment as she lay back down on her bed, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. There was no way she was going to be able to fall asleep now. And that made her angry. Because he had ruined sleep for her. And he always managed to ruin everything.

Standing up abruptly, she walked over to the chest of drawers, opening up the bottom one and digging her arm around in the back until her hand closed around a small envelope. She stared at it for a moment and a fresh wave of anger coursed through her once more.

"Yeah, I got your damn letter," she muttered.

With her teeth clenched tight, she ripped it in half. Then in fourths. Then smaller and smaller until there were dozens of little pieces of paper that fell to the floor as if in slow motion. She gathered them up quickly and tossed them in the bin without a second glance.

Abby crawled into bed, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed ages. She hugged her pillow tightly to herself, trying to extract some of its warmth, but it wasn't working. She still felt cold. The pillow couldn't comfort her. It was a thing and things didn't bring comfort.

Music did. It always had. But she didn't even have that anymore.

She sniffled softly into the night, her whole body aching with the need to play. It was like living every day with a wound up coil inside of her that couldn't be released. All that energy with nowhere to go. It was exhausting, and very, very bleak.

Abby sat up and wiped the wetness from her eyes. She'd come home wanting nothing more than to pass out on her bed, but the night apparently had other plans. Fumbling for her mobile on the bedside table, she checked the time to see it was now a quarter to ten.

She still felt so cold, both inside and out. And if things and music couldn't comfort her, perhaps something else could?

 _Or someone_ , she thought longingly.

Abby stared at her phone with a bit of sadness because no one person came to mind. And it hit her, like it sometimes did, that she was alone. She had plenty of acquaintances, sure. People she talked to from day to day. But there was nobody to bring her comfort. Nobody to call up in the middle of the night simply to hear their voice. Did she even like anyone's voice enough?

She closed her eyes and tried to listen. All her favourite sounds blending into one composition in her mind. The soft melodies of a grand piano. The powerful vibrations of an orchestra echoing off the floor and walls of a large music hall. The strings, the woodwinds, the brass and percussion. And then more simple sounds. Birds in the early morning. Rain pouring outside a window. The rustling of leaves in autumn. Voices. Loud and happy. Children's laughter. A quiet chuckle in a coffee shop.

Yes, yes she could hear that one quite well, actually. It was a rare sound, yet so familiar. And with a pleasant surprise, she suddenly realised who it belonged to. It was not a figment of her imagination. It was Harry. Harry was one of her favourite sounds.

Abby couldn't help but smile at the thought. Maybe she did have one person…just one person that brought her comfort. One was really all she needed.

It was ten o'clock now and probably well past the appropriate cut-off time to call. But this was Harry, and she was fairly certain he'd be annoyed at her for calling him no matter what time of day it was.

So with that reassurance, she proceeded to dial his number.

"Can I help you?" he answered after a few rings.

Abby smiled to herself. She could hear the annoyance just dripping from his tone.

Was she a bit mad for finding it comforting? Probably.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Hello…" he said in confusion. "Is there a particular reason you called or…?"

She wracked her brains quickly for something to say. She hadn't really thought about that when she had dialled. She'd just wanted to hear his voice.

"Could I see you tomorrow?" she said suddenly. "I just—I'd really like it if I could see you tomorrow. That is, if you're not busy. I figured you'd be free since it's a Saturday. In the evening, maybe? But if you're not, I mean, that's fine, too."

Harry took a moment to respond. "Are you all right?" he said, his tone softening a bit.

"Yeah!" Abby said, cringing at how false it sounded even to her own ears. "Perfectly fine."

"Okay…well, sure. I'll see you after work, then? At your flat?" he said.

"Perfect," she said with a small smile. "Thank you."

"No need for that," he said. "Goodnight, Abby."

She exhaled softly, a pleasant and warm sort of feeling spreading throughout her chest for no apparent reason. "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

Harry opened up his eyes groggily the next morning, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep. He didn't dare look at the clock. The morning light streaming in through the window was enough to let him know that it was much too early to do anything but lay here cosily in bed.

A flash of red caught his eye.

With half exhaustion and half amusement, he watched as Lily wiped down the edges of the window frame with a small dust cloth.

"Lils?" he called out, sitting up against his elbows. "What are you doing?"

She turned around with a bright smile on her face. "I'm cleaning."

"Right, of course."

"Did you have you a good sleep, Daddy?" she said, resuming her work with vigour.

"Excellent," he said, lifting off his covers and placing his feet on the floor. He glanced at the clock and noted that it was currently 6:45 in the morning.

Rubbing his face to get rid of any lingering fogginess, he walked up behind her and picked up her little form in his arms causing her to squeal in protest.

"Daddy, I'm not finished! We can play later," she said, struggling to get back down.

"But I want to play now," he whined. "I don't want to clean. Cleaning is boring."

Lily threw her head back against his arms and sighed. "Fine, but no tickles," she said, pointing a finger at him. "Promise?"

Harry nodded his head, before swinging her onto his back and giving her a piggy back ride down the stairs. He let her fall with a soft  _plump_  on the couch, causing her to break out in excited giggles.

"Again, again!"

"Again, what?" he said, kneeling down next to her.

"Again on your back!"

Harry shook his head. "Not without my payment," he said.

"But, Daddy," she said in exasperation.

"You know the rules," he said, crossing his arms and waiting.

Her little shoulders shook with laughter as she launched herself at him, causing him to fall back against the table behind him. She kissed both of his cheeks with excessive noise and then stared up at him, waiting.

"On your back, now?" she said.

Harry chuckled, planting a kiss of his own on her chubby little cheeks.

"Ouch! Your face hurts," she said, giving him a tiny glare as she pushed his head away. "You're 'posed to shave."

"Sorry, sorry," he said, rubbing the area with his thumb. "Hop on, then. Let's go upstairs and wash up."

She eagerly did as she was told, and they both went through their morning rituals before heading back downstairs and into the kitchen for breakfast. It would be a while before James and Al woke up, so as usual, it was just him and Lily. But he didn't mind. He liked spending time with each of his children, individually. Life was usually hectic in the house with three kids and only one of him, and everyone's voices weren't always heard. So, he savoured these one-on-one moments as much as he could.

"Are you excited for summer?" he said, pouring her a cup of orange juice.

"Mhm!" she said. "I wanna see Teddy! How much longer?"

Harry took a seat across from her and smiled. "Just one more week."

"One week is seven days, right?" she said.

"Right," he said, charming the knife to spread marmalade on their toast.

"Cause Julie said that one week is eight days," Lily said. "She said she heared it in a song. But that's silly, right?"

"Did you correct her nicely?" Harry said, eyeing her with a stern look. He knew how Lily got when she was she was trying to argue something.

The little girl in question shifted her eyes from side to side and took a large bite out of her toast to avoid answering.

"Lily, even if you know someone is wrong about something, you should always tell them politely. Otherwise, you might hurt their feelings," he said.

"But she wouldn't listen!"

"People won't always listen," Harry said with a shrug. "Just do your part and move on."

Lily didn't seem to like this advice very much, but she didn't say anything else on the matter. "Can Teddy sleep over every day when he comes back?" she asked, instead.

Harry let out a laugh as he flicked his wand to set the kettle boiling. "You won't get sick of him?" he said.

"Never!" Lily said, standing up on her seat and jumping with excitement. "Never, never, never, never—!"

"Sit down," he said in sharp voice. "How many times have I told you not to jump on your chair?"

"Sorry," she said, not looking very apologetic at all. She plopped back down on the seat, taking another bite out of her toast and smiling sweetly at him.

Harry shook his head with a sigh. "As for Teddy, he can sleep over as much as he wants. But I don't want you getting upset if he doesn't spend all his time with you, all right?"

"I  _know_ , Daddy," she said, her eyes wide with exasperation.

"Watch your attitude," he said. "And I know that you know. I'm just reminding you."

Lily gave him an exaggerated nod before returning to her toast, humming some made-up tune softly between bites as she wriggled in her seat.

Al walked into the kitchen some time later followed quickly by James, both of them immediately digging into their breakfasts.

"Dad," James said, swallowing his mouthful before continuing. "Dylan's birthday party is next weekend. Can I go?"

"Which one is Dylan again?" Harry said, a bit disoriented as he scoured the kitchen drawers for some change to give to the delivery owl that had just arrived. He kept saying he was going to end that blasted subscription to the  _Daily Prophet_ , but he just couldn't seem to get around to it.

"The one who plays football and has like a billion sisters."

"Doesn't he only have three?" Al said.

"Well, it must feel like a billion," James said with a shrug.

"What's wrong with sisters?" Lily said, jumping up on her chair to tower over him.

"Has anyone seen my wand?" Harry said, running a hand through his hair as he spun around. "I swear it was just—Lily! What did I  _just_  say about jumping?"

"Dad, it's right there," Al said, pointing to a stack of old post on the worktop.

Harry sighed in relief as he spotted the handle sticking out in between a few letters. "Thanks, Al," he said, summoning a knut to give to the owl. It had been following him around rather closely and was starting to get violent.

"Anyway," he said, letting out long breath as he sat back down at the table. "What were we talking about?"

"Dylan's birthday party," James said with a touch of exasperation. "Can I go?"

"Oh, right. Have I met his parents before?" Harry said, still drawing a blank.

"Er…I'm pretty sure, yeah. There was that one time…"

Al looked at his brother in confusion. "What are you talking about? Dad's never met them before."

James glared at him. "How would you even know? He's  _my_ friend, not yours."

"James," Harry said, cutting in before an argument could begin. "Why do you not want me to meet them?"

The boy sighed loudly. "Because, Dad. I'm not a baby. No one else's parents make a big deal about going to a birthday party."

"I don't care what everyone else's parents do, James. And anyway, I know for a fact that's not true. People don't just send their kids wherever they please," Harry said, getting back up to pour himself tea. "So, until I talk to Dylan's mum or dad, you won't be going to that party."

James opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off again.

"It'll take five minutes at most," he said. "There's no need to make a big deal out of it."

"Fine," James said with a moody look. "But just…do it privately or something."

Harry stared at him for a moment, a sad smile forming on his lips.

"What?" James said.

"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head as he walked back to his seat. "Just…I didn't think it would be so soon that you'd start getting embarrassed by me."

"I'm not embarrassed by you," James said as if the idea were absurd.

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps not, now," he said. "But it's bound to happen someday. Part of some natural cycle, I think."

"Well, that's stupid," James said. "I'm never doing that."

Harry let out a sniff of amusement. He knew James would someday forget about those words, but it still felt kind of nice to hear them now. They made the future seem less scary. And Harry was definitely scared, terrified even of his children growing up. Becoming teenagers. With attitudes and angst and…hormones.

He gulped.

And not for the first time he wondered how he was possibly going to do this all alone. How would he deal with three teenagers when he'd barely even been a teenager, himself?

 _Best not worry about that now,_  he thought, staring at their three young and beautifully innocent faces.

There would be plenty of time to worry about that later. Much,  _much_ later.

* * *

Abby showered and dressed quickly after work that evening. Harry was supposed to be meeting her soon, and she was cutting it a bit close on time. When she walked into the sitting room, she was surprised to see Clara draped lazily across the couch.

"What are you doing home?" she said.

"Well, I do live here," Clara said.

"I meant, you don't usually stay in on weekends," Abby said. "Not that I mind, of course. I was only curious."

"I'm feeling a bit under the weather," the girl said.

"Oh…well, do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, thanks," she said while looking Abby up and down. "Where are you going, then?"

"Just out with a friend."

"A friend?"

"Yeah…"

Clara raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What sort of friend?"

Abby sighed. "Why does it matter?"

The girl shrugged before returning her attention to the television programme. "Better not be a bloke, is all."

"And why's that?" she couldn't but ask.

"Because your outfit is positively hideous. For Christ's sake, you're wearing a jumper that looks about two sizes too big on you."

"What? It fits just fine," she said, looking down at herself. "And for your information, yes, it's a bloke. But it's not as if we're going on a date or anything."

"Oh, no no no no _no,"_ Clara said, suddenly finding the energy to sit up. "You never waste an opportunity with a man. Unless he is dead ugly or shaped like a whale, you go  _in_."

"Wow, if those are the only qualifications, why aren't I dating half of Britain, already?" Abby said, crossing her arms.

Clara tutted loudly, grimacing as if she were in great pain. "At least do something with your hair," she said.

"It's down and it's combed. What more can I do with it?" Abby said.

The mobile in her pocket thankfully starting ringing before the girl could respond.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, I'm outside," came Harry's voice on the other end.

"I'll be right down." Hanging up the phone, she turned to face Clara again. "I'm heading out. Try and get some rest, okay?"

"Where is he?" Clara said, disregarding her words.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Waiting outside. And no, you can't come down and meet him."

"Who said I needed to come down?" Clara said with a smirk as she rushed over to the open window.

Abby sighed loudly. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Is he the one with the dark hair?" she said, her head practically hanging out.

"Yes, now get away from there!"

"Oh, he's fit," Clara said, resting her face on her hand as she stared at him unashamedly.

"You can't even see his face," Abby said in exasperation.

"I don't need to. I can tell by the rest of him," she said with a shrug. "And the rest of him is rather nice."

"You're insane. And I'm leaving. Please step away from the window."

Clara merely waved her off, so she shook her head and made her way quickly down the stairs, not wishing for Harry to be the subject of her flatmate's ogling for much longer.

He looked up as she exited the front door and smiled at her.

"Let's not linger," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the pavement and out of sight.

"Nice to see you, too," he said.

Abby smiled apologetically at him. "Sorry, I'm…in a hurry," she said.

"You actually have somewhere in mind?" he said with one eyebrow raised.

She looked up at him with a grin. "Yes. I want to show you something."

The journey wasn't a very long one, and before she knew it, they had reached their destination. She tugged on Harry's hand gently to get his attention, and then gestured her head toward the shop to their left.

"What is it?" he said, confused as to why they'd suddenly stopped.

"We're here," Abby said.

Harry looked up at the sign above them. "A music shop?"

"Mhm."

She led him inside through the tinkling door and glanced around for Ollie. "Must be in the back room," she said.

"Who?"

"The shopkeeper. I know him," she said. "Well…sort of. I mean, I come in here a lot."

Harry nodded in understanding, but was too busy observing the room around him to respond. She chuckled at the child-like expression of wonder on his face as he walked over to the row of guitars in the back.

"See something you like?" she said, leaning against the glass counter behind her.

He turned his head to look at her. "Oh, er…no. I've just never been in a shop like this before. It's pretty cool."

"You've  _never_  been in a music shop before?" Abby said, standing up straight and staring at him in shock.

"I've never even been this close to an actual instrument."

"What are you, like an alien or something?" she said. "I know they're not all green and slimy, I've watched my fair share of Doctor Who. So don't go trying to pull anything."

A look of confusion passed over his face, but he just shook his head. "I'm not an alien."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "I bet you'd say that if you were one."

"Good point," he said.

Ollie walked in at the moment and smiled warmly as he spotted her. "Polished it yesterday. No worries."

"Polished  _him_  yesterday. It's a  _him_ ," she said in exasperation. "Stop degrading his worth."

"What are on about?" Harry said, holding a pair of drum sticks in his hands the wrong way round.

"You'll see," she said, taking the sticks from him and dragging him toward the very back of the room. "Harry, I'd like you to meet Sebastian. Or Seb, for short."

He stared at the pearly white grand piano with no small amount of awe on his face, causing Abby to smile proudly.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" she said, running gentle fingers across the lid.

Harry nodded. "Play something for me," he said, turning to look at her. "You said you would."

She gave him a sad smile. "I can't. Not on this one, anyway. It's much too precious and obnoxiously expensive. Ollie would kill me."

"Are you planning on buying it?" he said, kneeling down to inspect the underside.

Abby snorted. "Oh yeah, I'm totally saving up. I've got my own little piggy bank in my room that I drop a few pence in every now and then."

"So what, you just come in here and stare at it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," she said. "And I know what you're thinking. It's just a piano. But…well, it's more to me than that. It's like—it's like a person, but better. It brings me joy, it calms me down, makes everything else in the world disappear. All my troubles, all my thoughts just…stop. And it's just me and the music."

She shifted her eyes up to meet Harry's, who was staring intently at her.

"Have you ever loved something like that?" she said.

Abby knew the answer before he even spoke. She could see it in his eyes. He understood. And only people who were really passionate about something could understand.

"I used to, yeah," he said with a look on his face that made it seem as if he were miles away.

"Used to?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" she said, very aware that she was prying.

"It's complicated."

Abby let out a soft, sad sort of chuckle. "Why do I feel like everything about you is complicated?"

He shrugged and looked away from her.

"Harry," she said as gently as she could. "You know...if there's something that brings you joy, that's yours and yours alone, then…you shouldn't let that go. Everyone needs something to be passionate about."

"It's no big deal. It's not as if I have the time, anyway," he said, brushing the matter off as he turned to observe some harmonicas. "Can you play these?"

It was very clear that he was deflecting, but she bit back any further comment. "Not really, no," she said.

"How about this? Please tell me you can play this. It's a saxophone, right?"

Abby gave him an impressed look. "Look at you," she said with a grin. "And no, unfortunately I'm quite terrible at wind instruments. I can play piano, guitar, I've dabbled in some harp and violin, and I know my way around percussion."

"Wow," he said, looking a bit taken aback.

"I'm not that good at all of them, obviously," she said, feeling herself blush. "But, you know, I'm not exactly horrible, either."

"Well, when can I hear you play?" he said.

Abby smiled, feeling rather pleased that he was interested. "Soon, I promise. But not today," she said with some regret.

"Why not?"

"Shop's about to close," she said with a smile.

They both walked out into the pleasant evening air after she had bid Ollie a loud farewell. Abby didn't want the night to end yet. It was still early, and the thought of her small, empty bedroom wasn't a very comforting one at the moment.

"What do you want to do now?" she said, hoping that he wouldn't tell her to leave him alone.

"Dunno," he said.

_Okay, that's not a complete rejection._

"Well, I'd tell you to come back to my place, but my flatmate is home, and she's not feeling very well," Abby said. "And, you know, I wouldn't want you getting sick or anything."

She punched his arm in a playful manner. But judging by the slight wince on his face, it hadn't been as playful as she thought.

Abby mentally chided herself, barely hearing Harry's voice as it cut into her thoughts. "What?" she said, looking up at him.

"I said, you can come over if you want."

Abby paused abruptly in her step, gazing at him with her mouth open. "You mean…to your house? You're inviting me into your home? You? The place where you live?"

He stared at her with a dry look. "Right, see, this is what's called an overreaction," he said. "Let's try and not do that, yeah?"

"Sorry, sorry!" she said, hurrying to catch up with him as he started walking again. "It's just—I'm surprised, is all. This is  _you_  we're talking about here, Harry."

"Yes, I'm aware. Now, let's go. We'll have to take the bus."

It wasn't a very long ride, but to Abby it felt like hours instead of minutes. She knew she was way too thrilled about this, but she couldn't help it. She was going to see Harry's house!

She looked up at him at grinned at the mere thought.

"Would you stop doing that?"

"What?" she said.

"Smiling at me," he said. "This really shouldn't be that exciting."

"And yet it is," she said with a shrug, smiling even wider to annoy him.

The bus dropped them off in a nice looking area with lots of greenery and a few houses interspersed between. It seemed to guarantee a lot of privacy, something which she was sure Harry greatly appreciated as she couldn't really see him as the neighbourly type.

They walked for a bit before he led her to a modest looking house at the end of the road. It had a sizeable front garden with small thickets of trees scattered around the edges and what looked to be a larger garden in the back. It felt secluded and intimate, and it was strange to think that busy London life could be found just a few bus stops away.

"It's wonderful," she said a little breathlessly.

"Er…thanks," Harry said. "Come on, then."

Abby followed him through the front door and into the entryway, her head swivelling in every direction as he led her further inside. But he stopped rather suddenly at the end of the corridor, causing her to run into his back and nearly stumble backwards.

"Sorry," he said quickly, turning around to face her. "Could you give me just one minute to, erm, tidy up?"

"Well, you don't have to do it on my account," she said. "But sure, if it really makes you uncomfortable."

"Yeah…yeah really uncomfortable," he said, nodding in agreement. "I'll just be right back."

Abby stared at him strangely as he rushed into a room up ahead. She was surprised he even cared, really. It wasn't as if he was about to entertain some high-profile guests. But she chose not to comment on it when he walked back towards her a couple of minutes later.

He led her through the rest of the house which appeared to be just as modest-looking as the outside. She followed him into the sitting room, which she was amused to find, didn't look nearly as neat and orderly as Harry had probably hoped. It wasn't messy, per say. It just had a very 'lived-in' sort of appearance. The cushions were placed rather haphazardly on the couch, toys and a few articles of clothing were scattered on various pieces of furniture, small stacks of paper littered the end tables. And there were lots and lots of photographs lined up all along the walls and over the fireplace.

It was perfect. Everything about it was simply perfect.

"Er…have a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch.

Abby smiled at him as she sat down. "This is a really great place, Harry."

"Yeah, sorry for the mess," he said, taking a seat as well. "I usually clean up on the weekends, but I didn't have time this morning."

Abby merely shrugged. "A house should always be a bit messy, don't you think? Makes it more alive, that way. More of a home."

He gave her a grateful look. "Let's hope so."

There was a brief pause in which she noticed that Harry seemed to be a bit on edge, playing with his fingers as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

"Why so tense?" she said, trying to hold back a smile.

He looked at her with surprise, before his face melted into a more relaxed expression. "Sorry, it's just—I'm not really used to company. I only ever really have family over," he said. "I'm not exactly Mr. Hospitality."

Abby let out a small giggle which caused him to scowl at her. "Sorry," she said, straightening her features. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise. But you have to admit, it's a bit funny."

"What is?"

"Well, I mean…it's only  _me_ , Harry. I'm hardly company," she said in amusement. "I'm just some random, odd girl who followed you home and refused to leave."

"I invited you," he said.

"Yes, yes, I know," she said with a wave of her hand. "But you didn't really want to."

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Of course I wanted to," he said, his eyes going a bit hard. "Why would you think I didn't want to? I don't play games, all right? I invited you over because I wanted you to come over. Nothing more, nothing less."

Abby shook her head, feeling a myriad of emotions rumbling within in her. "But on the phone, when I called you last night. You knew something was wrong. I told you I wanted to see you, and you said yes because you knew. Not because you wanted to…right?"

"You've got it all wrong," he said. "Look, I know I'm not the most pleasant person to be around, and I don't exactly wear my heart on my sleeve. But you must know by now that I like being around you. We're friends, aren't we? You said it yourself."

Abby just gazed at him, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the sincerity in his words.

"But…I thought I annoyed you?" she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Well, of course you annoy me," Harry said. "But you also sort of…make me happy. And I don't make friends easily. You should know that by now."

She didn't know quite what to say to that, but she didn't think she'd be able to speak even if she wanted to. For there was a large lump of emotion building up in the very back of her throat that was becoming almost painful.

Abby stared at him, deep into his eyes.

"You're going to hug me now, aren't you," he said in a resigned tone.

She nodded slowly and then rushed over to envelop him in a nice, warm hug that seemed to instantly calm the wave of emotions in her chest.

Except perhaps one.

There was one lone emotion that seemed to move against the tide. But it was a pleasant one. And she welcomed its sudden turbulence.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry was not an idiot.

Sure, academics were never his strong suit. He couldn't solve complex Arithmancy equations, and he didn't know the ingredients to every single potion by heart. But those were not his areas of expertise. He knew what he needed to know. He was good on his feet, and he had strong instincts. And most importantly, he wasn't careless. Reckless, sure. But never careless.

The other day, though…he  _had_ been careless. And he had been an idiot. Because only a careless idiot would let a muggle into a magical home without taking any precautions beforehand. What if Abby had seen something? He'd only just remembered to freeze all the photographs in the sitting room seconds before she entered. But what if that hadn't been enough? An owl could have swooped in to deliver a letter, the fireplace could have burst to life with a floo call, and any of the number of blatantly magical books and objects strewn across the house could have easily caught her eye.

He simply hadn't been thinking when he'd invited Abby over. And that irritated him because he was nearly thirty years old, and at times, he still acted like a rash teenager. It was almost as if there was a part of him, a very small part he didn't want to acknowledge, that  _wanted_  something to happen. That wanted her to find out right then and there. That wanted to be rebellious. Sure, he'd briefly skirted around the idea of someday telling Abby about magic. But not like that, not completely out of the blue so she could have a heart attack on his sitting room floor.

Harry exhaled loudly and shook his head as he exited the lift, walking purposefully through the long corridor and toward the third office door from the right on the opposite end of the large room. Because if anyone could help him unscramble his thoroughly scrambled thoughts, it was Hermione.

Yes, Hermione would help him sort everything out. His rash decision-making, his rebellious urges, his careless stupidity. She'd give him a proper scolding, and then she would sort everything out. Maybe even knock some sense into him if he was lucky.

"We need to talk," he said, barging into her office without bothering to knock.

Hermione looked up in surprise.

"I know you've probably got a million other important things to do right now—"

"Harry—"

"—but I just need ten minutes of your time to tell you about how stupid I am. Because I have been. Stupid, I mean. And I—"

"Harry," she said again, this time with more force.

"What?" he said.

"I'm sort of in a meeting."

He stood there for a moment before turning around to face the armchair across from Hermione's desk that he'd just now noticed was occupied. In his defence, it had been obscured slightly by the door when he'd first walked in.

"Oh…sorry," Harry said, giving the man an apologetic look.

"No problem, Mr. Potter, sir," he said, standing up upon being addressed.

"No need for that," Harry muttered, feeling quite embarrassed now. "Right, well…as you were."

He quickly left the room before either could respond.

 _So much for that_ , he thought, exiting the lift as he arrived back on his floor. He'd just have to talk to her later. Hermione would probably seek him out. She did love to talk, after all.

He pushed the thought aside as he walked back towards his office. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a purple memo zooming straight at him. He didn't have to guess who it was from. Davis somehow always managed to make the damn things smack right into his face.

Sure enough, when he opened it up, he recognised her elegant scrawl at once. There were only three words written down, but they immediately put him in a sour mood.

_Merchant case again._

Harry sighed and opened the door to his office, summoning the large case file that had recently been unearthed from the archives.

"Anna," he called to the young witch outside. "Do you know if Ellsworth is back from his break yet?"

"I haven't seen him, sir," she said. "But Auror Davis came by looking for you earlier. I think she's in conference room one."

Harry nodded in response, shouldering his bag and walking back out. "Can you do me a huge favour?" he said.

"Of course," Anna said, looking up at him in earnest.

"Floo Andromeda Tonks and ask her if she can pick up Lily from school today. She's done at 12:45."

"Right away, sir," she said with a nod.

Harry thanked her and then headed over to the row of cubicles on the far side of the room where most of the junior aurors were situated. "Who's not doing anything?" he said.

They all stared at him warily as if not sure what the proper answer was.

"All right, let me rephrase that," he said slowly. "Who wishes they were doing something else?"

One brave soul in the back finally raised his hand and Harry beckoned him over. "Today's your lucky day, Adams," he said just loud enough for everyone else to hear. "You'll be sitting in on a case with me."

As he expected, his words were met with several put out expressions. However, no one dared protest. None of the current junior aurors had been trained by him, and so they were all still under the impression that he would bite their heads off at any given moment.

"Was that a test, sir?" Adams said, shuffling up alongside him as they walked towards the conference rooms.

"If that's what you want to call it," Harry said with a shrug. "It's very simple—and you can go ahead and share this with the rest of them. I like straightforward people who take initiative, not ones who act like frightened little bunnies every time I walk by. I'm really not that scary."

"That's debatable," Adams muttered.

Harry chose to ignore that comment and returned to the matter at hand, instead. "All right, just to give you a quick run-down of the case," he said. "Carl Merchant, 43, convicted of murdering his wife and son in their own home. He pled guilty and was sent to prison soon after. The events of the murder and trial took place in the spring of 2007."

"2007?" he said in surprise. "Has there been cause for a reinvestigation?"

"That's what we're about to find out." Harry said, knocking on the conference room door before entering and finding Davis sitting at the table with various papers spread out around her.

"All right, please tell me there's a reason why we're wasting valuable time on a case we closed three years ago," Harry told her as he sat down. "Because if you need something to do, I've got a mountain of reports on my desk just waiting to be looked into."

"Don't take me for an imbecile, Potter," she said, her brows furrowed as her eyes moved rapidly across the page she was reading. "Where's Ellsworth? He'll want to hear about this."

"He's not back yet," Harry said. "And hear about what, exactly?"

She looked up at him, glancing briefly at Adams with a touch of unpleasantness and then shifting her eyes back again. "He was right. I think we have to restart the investigation."

Harry shook his head, feeling a bit frustrated. "We established that the original evidence wasn't fabricated. The prints belonged to Merchant. The results from DM were clear about that."

"This isn't about the prints," she said, looking slightly confused. "There's something else."

At that moment, the door opened to reveal Ellsworth, looking thoroughly windswept as he hastily took a seat at the table. He was a tall and burly Northerner that had been working as an Auror nearly as long as Harry had been alive. And despite his sometimes overly paranoid mind-set that mirrored that of his late colleague Alastor Moody, Harry had always held the man in very high regard.

"What did I miss, then?" he said.

"We were just getting to that," Davis said, pulling out a small white envelope. "This was sent through the post earlier. I have no clue what it is yet, but you can have a look."

She passed the envelope over to Harry, and he opened it up, finding a handful of tiny wheat-coloured seeds inside. "And what does this have to do with anything?" he said, inspecting them closely before handing it over to Ellsworth.

"It's from the same source as the other letter," Davis said.

"Adams," Harry said. "How can we determine if two anonymous letters are linked to each other?"

The young auror balked slightly under the unexpected attention. "Erm…well…" he said, trying to avoid all three sets of eyes.

"Go on," Harry said.

"Analyse the handwriting?" he said.

"Is that a question?" Davis said, with one eyebrow raised.

He shook his head.

"Okay, which charm would you use?" Harry said.

Adams wiped his hands on his trousers as he shifted in his seat. "I—I know this," he said. "I just...need a second."

They all stared at him.

"It's nothing to wet yourself over, lad," Ellsworth said, folding his arms across his chest.

Adams suddenly snapped his fingers. "Excutio Scripturam!" he said, causing Davis to do a very sarcastic slow-clap.

Harry nodded. "Good. But I do suggest you review the basic analytical charms from your first year of training. They're used far more often in practice than you might expect," he said. "As for our current situation, the second letter we received has no writing on it, so that particular charm would be useless. But can you think of anything else that might have been used to verify their connection?"

Adams creased his forehead in deep thought for a moment before shaking his head in defeat. "I don't know, sir," he mumbled.

"No problem. You're here to learn," Harry said, giving him a reassuring look. "And Davis,  _you're_ here to teach." He turned to the bored-looking witch across from him and gestured for her to continue.

"Right, what Adams failed to consider," she began, earning a very unamused look from Harry, "is the analysis of latent evidence. Things that cannot be directly observed by the naked eye, that lie beneath the surface and must be extracted. We're talking about prints—finger, palm, foot—bodily fluids, in this case, saliva on the envelope. And in some instances, we can even attempt to trace latent magic."

"What's latent magic?" Adams said, looking up from the notepad he was furiously scribbling in.

"Oh, come on," she said with a huff. "I  _know_  we teach that in training. Who was your senior instructor?"

"Auror Kamely," he said, staring between them.

She snorted loudly. "Well, that explains it…"

"Davis," Harry said. "Continue, please."

She gave him a sour look, but did as she was told. "Whenever magic is performed on an object, or anywhere in general, it leaves a residue. You're aware of this, I hope?"

Adams nodded.

"Well, if you have enough samples of residue from one individual, then you can use that information to determine his or her unique magical signature. This, in turn, can then be used as a template for further comparison."

"I'm not sure I fully understand."

Davis sighed in annoyance. "It's like…coming across a creature you've never seen before," she tried to explain. "You take down a list of its characteristics and behaviours and then brand it as a new species. This information then allows you to recognise other members of the species more easily in future and group them into the same category."

Adams nodded slowly. "All right, so…we were able to trace enough residues from the two envelopes to determine that they were from the same person?"

"Yes…surprisingly," she said, a thoughtful look passing over her face.

"It doesn't make any sense," Harry said as he looked over the results from the analysis.

Adams glanced between the two in confusion. "Sorry, but…what doesn't?"

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Davis said in disbelief. "Are you trying to play the part of an idiot or does that just come naturally?"

"Cool it," Harry told her, before turning to address the young auror. "Magical residues are left when some sort of spell or enchantment is performed, and there was a whole lot of residue on these two envelopes.  _No one_  needs that amount of magic to seal and mail off a letter."

"So, do you think it's been tampered with, sir?" Adams asked.

Harry exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Not by anything we could detect, apparently."

"Then, where do we go from here?" Davis said.

He picked up the small envelope to examine its contents once more. "Well, we'll begin by identifying these seeds. Adams, there's a whole library on magical and mundane plants at your disposal. Get started," he said, sliding the envelope over to him. "Davis, once he's figured that out, I want you to compile a list of all magical properties, as well as potions in which they could be used. When we've gathered that information, we'll have another meeting to discuss the case in further detail. Someone wake Ellsworth up and relay the instructions. You're dismissed."

There was a shuffling of papers as they all gathered up their belongings. Davis hit Ellsworth with a stinging hex, causing him to jolt awake in his chair and curse at her with an array of very colourful words that made Harry want to cover up Adams' ears.

"Auror Potter," the young man called as Harry left the room and started walking back to his office.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could have a copy of the case file. You know, to study it before the next meeting," he said.

"Oh, right," Harry said, pulling out the large file and casting a Doubling Charm on it. "Sorry, it completely slipped my mind."

"Not a problem. Thank you, sir."

"You did fine today, Adams," Harry told him. "Don't be afraid to ask questions, even from Auror Davis. She may be intimidating, but it's for your own good, I promise."

The young man let out a small chuckle as he nodded. "I understand, sir. I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will. Just relax with the 'sir' stuff, all right? We're colleagues now."

Adams' neck turned a bit flushed, but he nodded again. "Will do, sir—I mean—will do…Mr. Potter."

Harry's lip twitched slightly in amusement. "Potter," he corrected. "Just Potter. Or Harry, if you want."

The man's eyes widened slightly, as if being on first name basis was some kind of absurdity. "Right…good-bye, then," he said, apparently choosing not to address him at all, now.

Harry shook his head as he made his way back towards his office. When he entered, he wasn't surprised to find Hermione waiting for him.

"You busy?" she said as he tossed his stuff haphazardly on the desk.

Harry noted the familiar frown on her face as she surveyed the clutter, but thankfully she didn't comment. She'd stopped trying long ago.

"I'm always busy," he said, loosening his tie a bit and settling into his chair. "But I suppose I could squeeze you in."

"How considerate of you," she said. "Now, you wanted to tell me something?"

Harry smiled. He always appreciated her ability to get straight to the point. "I did, yeah," he said. "See, I sort of…well, I did something stupid."

"Yes, I gathered as much when you stormed into my office," she said with an amused look.

"Right, sorry about that."

Hermione brushed it off. "Go on, then," she said. "Tell me what happened."

He sighed heavily. "All right, well, I hung out with Abby on Saturday night," he began carefully. When Hermione didn't comment, he decided it was safe to continue. "We were out, and then for some idiotic reason, I decided to invite her over."

Harry waited for some sort of reaction, but Hermione simply stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"To my house," he added.

"And…?" she said, leaning in closer to rest her elbows on his desk.

"And…it was stupid of me," he said slowly. "She's a muggle, Hermione. I didn't even think to take any precautions. I remembered the photographs in the sitting room at the last second and made up some lie about tidying up before she could enter. I was careless."

Hermione's shoulders seemed to deflate a bit before she sat up straight in her chair again. "Is that all?" she said.

"Why, is that not enough?" he said in confusion.

"No, it's just…well, I thought you were going to say something else," she said.

Harry looked at her strangely. "Like what?" he said.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Let's, erm, let's talk about what happened."

"Okay…"

"You're right, Harry, that was rather careless of you. Do you think she saw anything?" Hermione said in a business-like fashion.

"No, I was with her the whole time," he said with a shake of his head. "She didn't stay for very long."

"Good. That's good," she said, nodding.

"I just don't know why I did it," he said. "I didn't even think of the consequences."

"Well," Hermione said, looking hesitant. "Don't be angry with me, but…maybe it's because you're not really used to inviting people over?"

He stared at her blankly.

"I mean, even if I invite a guest over spontaneously, I usually take a moment to consider what state the house is in," Hermione said gently. "And maybe if you'd taken that extra moment, you would have been more mindful of your situation and remembered all the magical items lying about."

"It's not as if I didn't consider that there was a bit of a mess before letting her in, Hermione. Despite what you may think, I'm not that socially inept," he said, feeling annoyed. "I just forgot. I forgot that she was a muggle. I forgot that I was a wizard. I just—I don't know. I don't know what it was."

He ran his hands over his face and let out a loud puff of air.

"Harry...I'm sorry. I might be  _completely_  wrong. But no matter what the reason, this was just a mistake," she said, giving him a comforting look. "We all make mistakes, and we learn from them. You just need to be more prepared next time, that's all."

He took a moment to consider her words, sighing heavily as he leaned back against his chair. "What if...what if a small part of me wanted her to find out?" he said, studying his fingers closely to avoid her eyes.

"About…magic?"

He nodded.

"That's illegal," she said quietly.

"I'm aware," he replied a little sharply. "I wasn't actually planning on anything happening, I'm just saying what if it was an unconscious urge or whatever."

"Well, even if that is the case, it doesn't matter. You won't make the same mistake again," she said.

Harry didn't feel very pleased with that answer for some reason, and apparently it showed on his face because he heard Hermione let out a troubled sigh.

"Look," she started. "I know what it's like to want to tell people. All my family are muggles, remember? My aunts, uncles, cousins. But the rules are rules. The Statute of Secrecy was established for a reason."

"Yeah, I get that, all right?" he said. "It was just a stupid thought…"

Hermione leaned over to clasp his hand. "It's not stupid," she said adamantly. "No one likes to keep secrets from people they care about."

Harry slid his hand carefully from under her grip and then made a show of organising some of his paperwork. "I don't care about her," he muttered. But even as he said it out loud, he felt a twinge of guilt in his gut.

"Somehow I don't believe you," Hermione said.

"Why's that?" he said, trying to appear indifferent.

"You invited her into your home, for one," she said as if it were obvious. "You let her meet your children, you spend time with her when you don't have to, you want to tell her about magic. Harry…she  _has_ to mean something to you. You'd have never done any of those things otherwise."

He stopped pretending to neaten his desk, and looked up at her. "Well, it doesn't matter either way, does it? There's no way I can tell her."

"Well…that's not  _completely_  true," Hermione said with that tone she used when she was trying to correct someone politely. "Marital contracts do allow for the witch or wizard to reveal the existence of the Wizarding world to his or her non-magical spouse."

"That's lovely, Hermione," he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone like venom. "I'll let you know when we set a date for the wedding."

"Right, sorry…that wasn't very helpful," she said, looking a bit sheepish.

"To put it lightly," he mumbled, picking up a report from the top of the pile and opening it up. "Listen, thanks for coming down here. You sorted things out for me, and I appreciate it. But I need to get back to work now, and I'm sure you do, too."

"Harry…"

"What?" he said, glancing up at her.

Hermione appeared to be contemplating something. "In a couple of weeks' time, if you still really think you want her to know…then get back to me."

"What?" he said, wondering if she'd gone mental.

"Look…the Statute of Secrecy is a very,  _very_  complex law with numerous sections and clauses that have been repealed and reinstated more times than I can count," she told him in a hushed tone, as if worried someone could be listening in. "If I take the time to inspect it all the way through, there's bound to be something in there I can work with. But you have to be  _positive_ that this is what you want."

He stared at her intently as if seeing her for the first time. "You'd do that for me?" he said, not able to mask the surprise in his tone.

"I'd do anything for you, you idiot," she told him with a huff.

He nodded his head a little jerkily, turning away from her so she wouldn't see his face.

"Are you all right?" she said.

"Fine," he said quickly, mentally cursing his sudden tide of emotions. "It's just a bit dusty in here. You're right, you know, I should really clean up. The state of those shelves—"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione interrupted, walking over to him and placing a kiss on top of his head. She held his face in both her hands and smiled at him in amusement. "It's okay not to be made of stone once in a while, you know."

He removed her hands gently and held them in his own. "Thank you," he said, looking up at her with a serious expression. "Even if none of this works out, just…thank you, Hermione."

She paused for a moment, gazing at him with warm eyes. "It'll work out," she promised.

* * *

Abby glanced up at the clock out of the corner of her eye. She always did. It was nothing new. She always waited for the moment he would arrive. Because work was monotonous and customers were normal and conversation was filled with polite laughter and mundane pleasantries. And sometimes, it all just felt a bit exhausting.

But whenever Harry walked through the shop door, a little bubble of excitement settled in her stomach. He was like a cure for her boredom. A little blip in an otherwise flat day. She liked having him around because he was fun to be around and it all seemed so very simple.

Abby exhaled softly, glancing up at the clock once more. She hadn't seen him since Saturday night. Two days. Two whole days that she'd been left to wonder. And today, she really just wanted to know _._  Would she feel it again? That strange, warm, wonderful feeling? It was like comfort and excitement and happiness and affection all jumbled together into one giant ball that exploded into tiny little pieces and tickled at her very insides. It lasted only for that one moment. But she couldn't forget it, and she definitely couldn't ignore it.

She just needed to  _know._ Would it happen again?

The bell on the door tinkled at that moment, and when Abby looked up, she felt a sudden swooping sensation in her stomach. Deciding to overlook it for now, she walked over to Harry with a warm smile on her face. "Hiya!"

"Hey," he said, taking his coffee from her hands and downing it in one go.

"You all right?" she said in amusement.

"Just bloody exhausted," he mumbled, pressing his palms against his eyes and exhaling softly.

Abby gazed at him with concern. "Did you not get enough sleep?" she said, extending an arm to rub his back soothingly.

Harry removed his hands from his eyes and stared up at her. "What in the world are you doing?"

She froze.

_What am I doing?!_

"Nothing—sorry—what?" she stumbled, quickly stepping away from him and clasping her hands tightly behind her back.

Harry sighed. "I don't even want to know," he said tiredly. "Can you just get me a refill?"

"Of course!" she said a little too eagerly.

Abby internally groaned as she walked away. This wasn't looking good. She needed to relax. She'd gotten herself worked up the past couple of days and had been overthinking everything. But this was nothing. Harry had just been a bit more open with her on Saturday night. Of course she would respond differently.

She sighed in content, feeling like it all finally made sense. Walking back towards him, she gave him a bright smile and placed his coffee on the table before sitting down.

"I missed you yesterday," she said.

"Yeah, some stuff came up at work," he said. "I couldn't even pick Lily up from school, and she was right angry about it. Swore she wouldn't speak to me for another eight years."

Abby let out a small giggle. "That's rather specific."

"It's her favourite number. She uses it for everything, don't ask me why," he said.

"Probably because it looks like a snowman," she said.

Harry stared at her blankly. "Sorry?"

"When you write it out, it looks like a snowman," Abby explained. "I can see why it's her favourite."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you can find logic in the thoughts of a four-year-old," he said, leaning back in his chair and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Is that meant to be offensive? Cause I just find it flattering," she said.

"I thought you might," he said with a shrug.

Abby looked down at her fingers for a moment. "So…did someone else pick Lily up, then?"

"No, I just left her there."

"What?" she exclaimed, snapping her head up.

Harry let out a laugh. "It's a joke," he told her as if she were daft. "Are we a bit gullible today?"

Abby felt her face heat up with embarrassment, and something in the pit of her stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Sorry," she muttered. "That was…stupid."

Harry looked at her strangely, but thankfully didn't comment.

"Anyway, her grandmother picked her up," he said. "Well, she's actually my godson's grandmother, but she's practically family."

"You have a godson?" she said in surprise.

"I do, yeah. His name's Teddy," Harry said with a fond smile. "His parents passed away when he was a baby, so he grew up with his grandmother. And I tried to help out as much as I could. He's basically like my first-born."

"Were you close? With his parents, I mean," she said.

A wistful look passed over Harry's face as he stared out the window. "Yeah…yeah, we were fairly close. They were a lot older than me, and I didn't get to spend as much time with them as I would've liked," he said. "But they were good people. The best…"

Abby was glad that his head was turned, so he couldn't see the look of sorrow that surely passed over her face. She couldn't help it. It seemed like every person Harry had ever cared about was gone. His parents, his wife, and now his friends. How could anyone handle that much loss? She couldn't even fathom it.

"How old is Teddy?" Abby said, trying to keep her voice even.

"Thirteen."

Her mouth opened a bit in shock. "Blimey! You must have been  _really_  young when he was born."

A flicker of something passed in Harry's eyes, but it seemed to disappear as quickly as it had come.

"Yeah…I was seventeen," he said.

"You took care of him when you were  _seventeen_?"

"Well, I didn't do it myself," he said, turning to look at her with amusement. "His grandmother did most of the dirty work. I was pretty much only there to provide entertainment and change the occasional nappy."

Abby gazed at him for a moment, feeling overwhelmed by emotions that she couldn't even begin to describe. He just kept…changing before her eyes. Into someone she never expected him to be. Someone kinder, warmer, gentler. Someone better.

And yet…he was still Harry.

With a jolt, she realised that the strange, warm, wonderful feeling that had burst throughout her insides that night on Harry's sitting room couch, was threatening to do the same at this very moment. She'd spent the last two days wondering if it was some sort of fluke. But having him here now, sitting right across from her, with his messy black hair and tired green eyes and stoic expressions and dry humour, she knew it couldn't be. It couldn't be a fluke.

She felt something for him. Abby knew that now. Something as beautiful as friendship, but stronger.

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Harry rolled over and pulled the covers over his head, trying and failing to block out the sound of Lily's screeching. But the little girl wouldn't be deterred.

"Daddy, wake up!" she yelled, jumping up and down on the bed now. "We needa get Teddy!"

"Not for another six hours, Lily," he groaned in response.

It was Saturday morning and Harry was  _really_ looking forward to having a lie-in. Work had been obnoxiously hectic that week, and he'd had to stay up late each night trying to get everything done. He'd attempted to explain this to Lily before putting her to bed, but he should've known there'd be no use. Teddy was coming home today. It was basically like Christmas at the Potter household.

"But what if he's early!" Lily said, pulling the covers back off him and laying her head down on his pillow so that they were face to face.

"He won't be."

"But what if he is?"

"Lily."

"I'm just saying, what if he is?"

Harry turned on his back and covered his face with his hands.

"Daddy," she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

When he didn't respond, she crawled over and sat on his stomach instead. "Daddy," she repeated, trying to peel his hands from his face.

He simply groaned again, too tired to argue.

"Daddy!"

Harry let his arms fall to his sides as he looked up at her. "Lily, I  _promise_  you that Teddy will arrive in exactly six hours, and that we will all be there waiting for him when he does. Do I ever break my promises?"

The little girl shook her head swiftly.

"Then you have no reason to worry," he said. "Now, why don't you go and draw Teddy a picture, while Daddy takes a little nap. Could you do that for me, flower?"

Lily's shoulders slumped dramatically as she gave a big sigh. "Fine," she pouted, climbing off him.

"Hey," Harry called, pulling her back over to him gently. "Thanks for being such a good girl."

"You're welcome," she mumbled moodily.

He gave her a kiss before letting her hop off the bed and scurry out the room to go start her picture. She was barely gone two seconds before he rolled over, shut his eyes, and fell right back to sleep.

When Harry awoke again two hours later, he felt infinitely times more rested. He didn't blame Lily for waking him up at the crack of dawn, though, as he was rather excited to see Teddy, himself. The boy had always held a special place in his heart. He was like a son, little brother, and friend all wrapped up into one turquoise coloured package.

Harry grinned as he headed over to the bathroom to wash up. It would be nice having him around the house again. Not just for the kids, but for him. Harry didn't like to admit it out loud, but every now and then it got a bit lonely having no one at home to talk to on a more intellectual level. He loved his children more than anything, and they brought him joy and happiness every day in ways that no one else ever could. But sometimes…he just missed the conversations. He missed having someone in the house awake past nine o'clock. He missed joking around and getting into arguments and staying up into the early hours of the morning discussing life. And while he knew Teddy wasn't exactly a replacement for all that he'd lost, he still helped fill that gaping hole, if only just a little bit.

"Mornin', Dad," Al said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Hey, kiddo. What are you doing up so early?" Harry said, ruffling the boy's hair as he leaned over to grab his toothbrush.

"Lily," he said simply.

Harry chuckled. "Sorry about that. She must have moved on to her next target when she realised I wasn't going to give in."

"Her next target was James, but he just threw a pillow at her. Then she started screaming, and the only way I could get her to stop was by stuffing a chocolate frog in her mouth. And now she's gone and eaten my whole stash of chocolate frogs. Which is really annoying because who knows what she's done with the cards, and I've been looking for a Wendelin the Weird one for  _ages_ ," he said using a lot of hand gestures. "It was  _not_  a good morning."

Harry shook his head in sympathy. "I'm so sorry you had to suffer through all that alone," he told him fervently, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and bringing him in for a tight hug. "It's going to be okay."

"Daaaaad!" Al complained loudly, squirming away from him. "Be serious!"

"All right, all right," Harry laughed, letting him go. "Why don't you go back to sleep? There's still some time before we have to leave for King's Cross."

"I'm not tired anymore," Al said with a sigh. "Do you wanna play something?"

"I'd love to. But breakfast isn't going to make itself," he said, exiting the bathroom to head downstairs.

"Why not? Nana's breakfast makes itself," Al pointed out, following closely behind him.

Harry sniffed in amusement. "Yeah well, unfortunately I'm not as gifted with cooking charms as Nana is."

Al took a seat at the kitchen table, swinging his legs idly as he watched his dad's progress. "You should learn," he said.

"You think so?"

"Mhm. You can use magic, Dad. To do  _anything_!" Al said, his tone filled with awe. "So lucky…"

Harry paused in the action of pulling out a pan. Turning around slowly, he plastered a smile on his face as he addressed the boy. "You'll learn it all one day, yourself," he assured him.

Al lowered his gaze to the table and stared at it impassively. "Yeah…"

"You will," Harry repeated firmly. "And when you do, you'll come to realise that you can't, in fact, use magic for everything."

"You can't?" he said, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Nope. Can't conjure food out of thin air, for example. It's an exception to some bloke's law of something or other," Harry said with a wave of his hand. "You can ask your Aunt Hermione about that. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to explain it to you."

The look on Al's face indicated that he wouldn't be doing that anytime soon.

"So, what else can't magic do?" he asked with interest.

Harry turned back around to place the pan on the cooker and then summoned a few eggs from the fridge. "Er…well…it can't make people fall in love," he said, fishing around for something besides the obvious. The obvious didn't need to be stated.

"What about love potions?"

Harry looked over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised. "What do  _you_  know about love potions?" he said in amusement.

Al grinned mischievously. "I heard Uncle George talking about them with Victoire last summer," he said. "Dunno why anybody would want to use them. They seem pretty stupid and gross."

"They are," Harry said. "And anyway, they don't make people fall in love for real."

Albus seemed to contemplate this for a while as he sat in silence while Harry continued making breakfast.

"Is there anything else, Dad?" he said finally.

Harry exhaled softly before walking over to the table and taking a seat. "Yeah, there's, erm—magic can't…it can't bring people back from the dead. You know that, Al."

The boy nodded. "Like how you couldn't save Mum. Even though you save everyone."

There was no malice or accusation in his words. It was just a statement. So ordinary and commonplace it was almost as if they'd been discussing the weather. And yet, Harry still felt as though a knife were being plunged straight through his gut. "Yeah," he said, looking down at the table. "Like that."

"I guess you're right," Al said. "Magic can't do everything."

Harry shook his head as he stared off into space, a thousand thoughts swirling through his mind.

"Why don't you go call James and Lily," he said. "Tell them to come downstairs and eat, yeah?"

The boy did as he was told and hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Harry alone with only his thoughts for company.

* * *

"I can't see him!" Lily squeaked. "Daddy, I can't see him!"

"The train's not even here yet, Lily," James said, rolling his eyes at her. "Now stop jumping around, that's the third time you've stepped on me."

Harry wasn't sure how, but the platform seemed to get more and more crowded every year. Perhaps it was just a perception thing, or maybe witches and wizards were actually reproducing at a steadily increasing rate. Whatever the reason, he simply couldn't wait for the train to arrive. He liked to think that he'd gotten used to the staring over the years, but unfortunately, it wasn't something that came very easily. Especially when it was followed by whispering and pointing.

"You all right?" Andi asked, bumping her shoulder against his in a friendly gesture.

"Peachy," he said.

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. "Just imagine them all in their pants."

Harry chuckled. "I'd rather not."

"Well, I'm sure  _she_  wouldn't mind," Andi said, shifting her eyes to a young witch a few feet ahead of them that was eyeing Harry like a piece of meat.

"Oh, Merlin," he muttered, his entire neck heating up in embarrassment as he quickly looked away. "My children are standing  _right_ here. Is there no such thing as decency anymore?"

"She doesn't really seem the decent sort, dear."

Harry shook his head in frustration. "This type of thing never used to happen when Ginny was alive," he told her quietly. "I mean, sure I'd get the occasional letter or gift or even an innocent stare. But outright gawking? It's bloody ridiculous."

Andi gave him a sympathetic look. "I hate to be blunt, Harry, but the way the rest of the world sees it, you're very much an unattached young man, now."

"Young?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, young," she said emphatically. "You're not even thirty yet. Stop trying to age yourself."

Harry knew he wouldn't win that argument, so he let the matter go.

"Daddy," Lily spoke up, leaning against his leg. "I'm tired. Carry me?"

She had her arms up and an adorably expectant look on her face that would be almost cruel to say no to. So, he readily obliged and lifted her up against him so she could wrap her arms around his neck and lay her cheek against his shoulder.

"You know, she'll be getting too big to carry around soon," Andi said. "You shouldn't keep giving into her demands so easily."

"I don't," Harry said quietly. "I hardly carry her anywhere, anymore. Just let me do it while I still can."

The woman nodded in understanding, a wistful look appearing on her face. "I suppose you never really know when it's the last time," she said softly, running her fingers through the girl's bright red locks. "One day you put them down, and then…you never pick them back up again."

Harry hugged Lily a little closer to him, feeling a bit hollow inside all of a sudden. He tried to give Andi a comforting look, but it probably came off as more of a grimace. She smiled sadly at him, in return.

"Harry!"

They both turned to see Bill and his family walking towards them.

"Hey, did you just get here?" Harry asked, shaking the man's hand and letting Fleur kiss him on both cheeks before greeting Andi, as well.

"Yes,  _someone_  was running a beet late zis morning," Fleur said, giving Dominique a stern look.

"I lost track of time in the shower. Sue me!" Dom exclaimed. "Can we get over it?"

"You shower?" James said with his eyebrows raised.

"James," Harry warned.

Bill let out a bark of laughter, pulling the boy over and trapping him in a headlock. "You been here long?" he asked Harry while James attempted to break free.

"Unfortunately. Lily seemed to think it was very important that we arrive a half hour early just in case the train, I don't know, fell out of the sky or something," Harry said.

The little girl in question picked her head up and glared at him.

"Lily-billy is awfully quiet today," Bill said, finally releasing James from his imprisonment.

He walked over and attempted to kiss the girl on the cheek, but she just whined and burrowed further into Harry's neck.

"I'm tired," she exclaimed in a muffled voice.

"Oh, I see," Bill said. "So I suppose you don't really care that the Hogwarts Express just arrived, then."

Lily's head spun around so fast that she whipped Harry in the face with her hair. "It's here, Daddy, it's here!"

"Let's see who can spot them first," Harry said, placing the little girl atop his shoulders.

All the kids craned their necks trying to look for any sign of turquoise hair. Because wherever Teddy was, Victoire was sure to follow.

"I see Teddy!" both Lily and Louis shouted out at the same time.

"And there's Victoire," James added, jumping up and down and waving at them.

A bright smile spread across Harry's face as he saw his godson heading towards them. He didn't run. He was too 'cool' for that, obviously. But he did walk rather quickly. So quickly, in fact, that he had to set Lily back down on the ground as the boy strode over to the large group and straight into Harry's arms.

Harry just held him closely for a moment, feeling like something in his heart was locking into place again.

"Did you miss me?" Teddy said, leaning back to stare up at him with a grin.

"Not even a little bit," he said, shaking his head and looking unconcerned.

Teddy laughed out loud and hugged him one more time before facing the wrath of his grandmother who had been waiting impatiently nearby for her greeting.

"I feed him and clothe him and put a roof over his head all these years, and who does he run to first?" she exclaimed with her hands on her hips.

"Grandmum!" Teddy shouted, pulling her into a tight hug and swinging her about.

"Let me go, you foolish boy," she said sternly, though the effect was a bit marred by her own laughter.

Once James, Albus, and Lily all received their proper greetings, as well, the small family said good-bye to Bill, Fleur, and the kids and headed back through the barrier.

They took a Ministry car back to Andromeda's house, the entire trip lasting about half an hour. Time seemed to pass much quicker, though, with Teddy sharing all his stories from the past year.

When they arrived at their destination, all four kids immediately leapt out of the car and rushed up the long drive towards the front door.

"Teddy!" Andi scolded. "Are we house-elves to carry all your stuff in for you?"

"It's all right, I've got it," Harry said, levitating the large trunk out of the boot of the car.

"I know you have it, Harry. But he should at least offer to help," she said with a sigh.

He glanced up to see Teddy placing an excited Lily on his shoulders and smiled warmly at the scene. "Just let him off the hook for one day, yeah?"

Andi tutted, but didn't make any further comment. "I suppose this is why he runs to you first, does he?"

Harry laughed. "No, it's because of my undeniable charm and good looks," he said earning a smack across the shoulder.

"Just hurry up with his things," she said. "I'm going to start dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing his head before turning back to the boot, shrinking all the items, and stuffing them in his pocket.

As Harry walked up the long drive, he revelled in the feeling of contentment that spread throughout his chest. He loved the Weasleys with all his heart, but being here with his children and Teddy and Andi…it was always a bit different. A bit special. Because they were  _his_  family. His offbeat, irregular, wonderful little family. And he wouldn't trade them for anything.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry got ready on Monday morning after having taken an extra-long time in the shower. That was one of the luxuries of the summer holidays. He didn't have to rush around the house like a madman trying to make sure uniforms were clean and ties were straightened and lunches were packed. The boys would sleep in until the last possible moment when he'd have to leave for work, and he could go through his routine at a more leisurely pace. It was a likeable arrangement on both ends.

Slipping on his shoes, he descended downstairs to make himself a quick breakfast. He was about to enter the kitchen, but something out of the corner of his eye made him pause abruptly in his step. Lying on the sitting room couch, fast asleep and snoring lightly, was Teddy. Harry let out a small sniff of amusement and walked towards him.

"Teddy," he said, nudging him gently and crouching down so that they were at eye level.

"Hmm," the boy said, snuggling deeper into the cushion.

"What are you doing sleeping down here for, mate?"

Teddy opened his eyes, gazing at his surroundings in confusion. "Did I fall asleep?" he said groggily, squinting up at him. "What time is it?"

"Just past eight. When did you get here?"

"Around seven, I reckon," he said, scratching his head as he sat up with a small yawn. " _Andromeda_ woke me up at the crack of dawn to clean out my trunk. I tried ignoring her, but she just kept going on and on and on about it. I had it with all the nagging, so I came here instead."

"Hey, watch it," Harry warned. "She's your grandmother. You'll show her some respect."

Teddy rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. We'll kiss and make up later, I swear," he said, brushing him off. "Can I stay here till then?"

"I've got work, remember?" Harry said. "The kids are going over to the Burrow. You can join them if you want."

Teddy seemed to consider this for a moment. "Why can't I watch them here, instead?" he said, suddenly. "I'll babysit, it's no big deal."

Harry let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Then I'll stay here by myself."

"Nope, don't think so."

Teddy gave him an exasperated look. "Why not?" he demanded. "What do you think would happen, someone would come and steal me? You've got like a billion safety charms on this place."

"I don't care, you're not old enough," Harry said with a shrug.

"And when exactly  _will_ I be?"

Harry grinned. "Maybe when your voice finally stops cracking," he suggested, patting him on the cheek before standing back up.

"You're a barrel of laughs, you are," Teddy said, getting up to follow him into the kitchen.

He took a seat at the table, leaning back casually and shaking his hair out so it could turn a seafoam green colour. "What have you got to eat around here? I'm ravenous."

"Whatever your little heart desires."

"Hmm…eggs and soldiers," he said. "And butter the toast the way I like it."

"…Please," he added as an afterthought.

"Well, as long as you asked so politely," Harry said. "Go call Lily downstairs, would you?"

Teddy took the steps two at a time and returned soon after with a chattering Lily latched to his arm.

"I'm gonna show you this one too, okay?"

"Sure," he heard Teddy respond as he plopped the little girl on her chair and sat down next to her. She was currently rifling through a toy catalogue from one of the shops in Diagon Alley.

"See, here's a Fiona Fairy doll. And she's got pink wings in this one, but I want purple wings. See, look," Lily said, holding it up to his face.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"She has a purse, too. "

"Oh? What colour?"

"All the colours."

Teddy's eyes widened dramatically. "Lucky her."

Harry quietly set the table, trying hard to stifle his laughter lest he interrupt the conversation.

"And there's this," Lily continued, pointing at something that looked like a football. "Jamie and Al don't have this, but I want them to have it. I want them to have  _a lot_  of things. So that they can fill up their  _whole_  toy box."

"Valid reasoning, there," Teddy said with a nod.

"All right, Lils, put that away, it's time to eat," Harry said, sitting down across from them.

"Just eight more seconds!"

"No, no more seconds."

"Please, Daddy!"

"Lily," he said sternly. "Do I have to use magic?"

She sighed loudly and pushed the catalogue to the side before messily digging in to her soft-boiled egg. She continued to chatter on as they ate, however, telling them all about her plans for summer which included, but were not limited to, playing with Teddy, playing with Hugo, playing outside, and making apple pie.

Harry glanced at his watch once they were finished with breakfast and sighed in defeat. He only had about fifteen minutes left to leave for work.

"Hey, Ted. Can you go drag James and Al out of bed so they can floo over to the Burrow?" Harry said, quickly levitating all the dishes into the sink. "And if you want to join them go ahead. Just make sure you ask your grandmother first."

The boy sighed. "Do I have to? She'll just start going off on me again," he said a bit petulantly.

"Yes, you have to. Now go," he told him.

"Can I sleepover tonight?"

"Sure, as long as you  _ask your grandmother, first_ ," Harry repeated, steering the boy out of the kitchen. "Now, go use any means necessary to get James and Al down here as quick as possible."

"Yes, sir," Teddy said in an overly pleased tone, racing up the staircase.

Harry was rushing around the house trying to grab all his things when he heard a loud screech emanating from upstairs. Two minutes later found both James and Al sprinting down the steps after a loudly guffawing Teddy. The older boy stumbled slightly over his own feet, however, and toppled straight into Harry, causing the papers in his hands to scatter unceremoniously to the floor.

"What's going on here?" Harry demanded, as he bent down to pick them up. "And why are you two all wet?"

They all started talking simultaneously, each one louder than the next so that he couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. Having had enough, he abruptly cast a Silencing Charm on all three of them.

"I'm going to lift it now," he said. "And when I do, I want Teddy to explain first. Don't interrupt and don't talk over each other."

They all nodded.

"You told me I could use any means necessary to wake them up," Teddy said slowly. "So I sprayed them with an Aguamenti."

Harry rubbed his face with both his hands, trying and failing to maintain his composure. "You used  _magic?"_

"Sort of…" he said, shifting his eyes to the side.

"No, not  _sort of_. You did. You used magic. And you are going to be in so much trouble for this. But not right now. Right now I have to get to work, and you all have to march yourselves straight into that grate and floo over to the Burrow," he said, pointing a finger at the fireplace. "Teddy, can I trust you with Lily?"

"Of course," he said, picking up the little girl who'd just walked in from the kitchen to see what all the noise was about.

"Good, go on ahead, then," Harry said, kissing them both on the head. "But I'll be having a talk with you later, do you understand?"

Teddy nodded solemnly before walking Lily and himself over to the grate and flooing away.

Harry then turned to the other two boys still standing there and cast a quick drying charm on both of them. "Sorry for that unfortunate wake-up call. I probably should have been clearer in my instructions," he said.

James shrugged. "It was pretty wicked."

"Yeah," Al agreed, with an enthusiastic nod.

Harry just shook his head in amusement. "Well, don't get any ideas. Teddy's not allowed to use magic outside of school, and he knows it."

"Is he gonna be in big trouble?" Al asked.

"From the Ministry? No. From Grandmum and I?  _Oh_ , yes," Harry said. "Now, go on ahead to the Burrow before Nana orders some Hit Wizards to come searching for you."

They both let out little snickers and raced over to the grate. Harry waved good-bye and watched as they disappeared one after the other into the bright emerald flames.

* * *

"Would you rather be…stuck in a windowless room for the rest of your life, or…stuck in a glass room where people could watch your every move from outside."

"Bloody hell…the first one for sure," Harry said with a bit of revulsion.

"Really?" Abby said with interest, propping her chin up with her hand and staring at him. "I dunno…might get pretty miserable. Plus you'd get all pale and sickly. The lack of vitamin D would surely have an effect, as well."

"Yeah, well I'd still rather that than a bunch of peeping toms," he said.

Abby giggled lightly. "No one said they'd be staring at you  _all_  the time, Harry. I'm sure they'd allow you some shred of dignity if you asked nicely enough."

"Well, I'll try and remember that if the need ever arises."

They sat in silence for a moment as Abby went back to her crossword. She was biting on her thumbnail, and her forehead was creased in deep concentration. Harry stared at her as he absentmindedly traced the top of his cup of coffee.

"Hey, listen," he said suddenly, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

Abby glanced up at him and smiled, and he really wished she wouldn't because he wasn't sure how she was going to take what he said next.

"Er…"

"What is it, Harry?" she said, placing her hand atop his in what he assumed was meant to be a comforting gesture.

He ignored it for now, and looked back at her. "Well, the thing is…the kids are off from school now," he began slowly.

"Oh, that's exciting," she said, a bright smile spreading across her face.

 _Again with the smiling_ …

"Yeah," he agreed. "And well, originally I'd stop by this café to wait and pick up Lily because her school is just down the road. Then I met you, obviously, which was…nice. But now that school's out, well there's really no reason for me to come here, anymore. At least not every day."

Harry wasn't sure when it happened, but he suddenly noticed that Abby's hand had retreated back into her lap.

"Right," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and nodding in understanding. "Yeah, that—that makes sense."

Harry stared at her, trying to read her expression to get some sense of what was going through her mind. She was usually so easy to read, and it frustrated him that she was choosing now to suddenly develop a poker face. "Look at me," he said quietly, trying to catch her eye.

"I am," she said.

"No, you're not. You're staring at my forehead."

"I just—did you know you've got a scar? It's shaped a bit funny. I've never even noticed it before, can you imagine? All this time and I've never even properly looked at your forehead," she said, letting out a small laugh. "I suppose I don't notice a lot of things. Maybe I'm just so focused on—"

"Abby, stop," he said. "Just stop rambling for one second and look at me."

Her mouth closed abruptly as her eyes finally met his.

Harry felt something in his stomach clench. She'd never appeared so vulnerable before. And for the life of him he couldn't understand why. Who was he to cause such a look on her face? She would probably be happier without him, anyway. Probably  _had_ been happier before he'd shown up. He was just a shadowy darkness in her otherwise sunny world. And while he would miss that bit of brightness every day, it wasn't as if they'd never see each other again. In fact, he would most likely go out of his way to make sure they did. Because she helped him forget. She helped him smile and laugh. But he never helped her.

"I'd still like to hang out, though," he said quietly. "I mean, if that's all right with you."

Abby let out a small sniff of amusement and turned her head away from him. "Yeah…" she said, her voice sounding a little rough. "Yeah, of course that's all right, Harry."

"Great," he said, giving her a small smile even though her head was still turned. "Well...I need to get back to work, so…"

Her head snapped up as he stood to leave, and he immediately noticed that strange vulnerable look on her face once more.

"When will I see you?" she said softly.

"Er…whenever," he said with a shrug.

She gave a small nod. "Right," she said, playing with her fingernails. "Yeah, sounds good."

"Bye, then," he said a bit awkwardly.

Abby's lips parted slightly as their eyes met. "Good-bye, Harry."

* * *

It had been the longest week of her life.

Four days. It had only been four days, but somehow it felt like eternity.

With a jolt, Abby suddenly realised that this had been the longest period of time she'd ever gone without seeing him. He'd just always been there. A quiet presence in her day-to-day life. And it seemed ridiculous to think that there'd ever been a time when she hadn't known him.

His words kept replaying in her mind like the annoying buzz of a mosquito.

_There's really no reason for me to come here, anymore._

_No reason…_

_There's really no reason…_

Abby let out a loud noise of frustration as she buried herself beneath her pillow, using it to block out her ears as if that would somehow silence the thoughts in her mind.

Her alarm clock suddenly went off, and she let go of her pillow and threw it at the device, instead. She didn't want to get up, and she didn't want to go to work. When was the last time she'd even had a day off? She bloody well deserved a day off!

"Abby!" Clara called from somewhere outside the door. "Turn that damn thing off, would you?"

Abby glared at the ceiling and let the alarm ring for about five more minutes out of pure passive-aggressive spite.

"ABBY!"

"All right, all right!" she said, reaching an arm over to turn it off.

She sat up and hugged her legs to herself, resting her forehead on her knees. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she missed Harry terribly. He was her friend, after all. And it had hurt, more than it should have hurt, to hear those words coming out of his mouth. All this time she'd foolishly thought that he came to see her every day because he  _wanted_  to come and see her. But she should've known that could never be the case.

He'd been roped into this friendship from the very beginning, after all. And sure, he might have ended up enjoying himself a bit along the way. But it wasn't enough. She wasn't enough.

"Hey, have you seen my red jumper?" Clara asked, poking her head in the doorway and putting an abrupt halt to Abby's thoughts.

"No."

"Bloody hell…what's wrong with you?" the girl said, walking into the room.

Abby lifted her head up. "What do you mean?"

"You look  _well_  miserable," Clara said, crossing her arms.

"I'm fine. I just…don't feel like going to work."

"Call in sick," Clara said as if it were obvious.

Abby took a moment to consider this. She was usually never one to skive off, but the thought seemed so incredibly alluring. "Can you…can you just convince me further?"

Clara grinned and climbed onto the bed, crawling over to her ever so slowly. "Just imagine, yeah…lying here in bed…all day long. No boss yelling at you, no annoying customers, no serving, no cleaning. Just you doing whatever you want, whenever you want. Absolute…pure…bliss…"

Abby let out a loud peel of laughter. "All right! You've convinced me," she exclaimed, pushing the girl away as she threatened to climb on top of her.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure!"

"Positive?"

"Yes, now get off me!"

"That's my girl," Clara said, patting her on the cheek before hopping off the bed. "Don't go too crazy, now."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Abby said, shaking her head as the girl left the room.

She felt a bit guilty for ringing Maggie and making her come into work on a Friday, but that guilt lasted for about five minutes as she lay back down in bed and fell asleep.

By the time she woke up again, only a few hours had past. Abby showered, dressed, and ate a bowl of cereal, before plopping down on the sofa and turning on the telly. It wasn't even noon yet, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps having a day off wasn't nearly as relaxing as it should've been. Work was nice because she was always too busy to think. But here in her flat, thinking was all she seemed to have time for.

Abby turned off the telly. She knew what she needed. And she needed it desperately.

Putting on her shoes and grabbing her bag, she locked the door behind her before hurrying down the steps and into the fresh daylight. The walk only took her about ten minutes, and when she glanced up at the sign above the door, she let out a small humourless laugh at her own plight.

"Marvin's Toy World," she read quietly to herself. "Let's go meet Marvin, then."

The bell on the door sounded as she entered the small shop, but there was no sign of Marvin or any of his associates anywhere. She walked towards the back, her eyes flitting over various items before landing on what she'd come for.

"Can I help you with anything?" a bored looking teenager asked from behind the counter. She wasn't sure when he appeared there, but she turned to smile at him, nonetheless.

"Marvin?" she asked.

"Gary," he said in a flat voice.

"Nice to meet you, Gary," she said, smiling again. "Say, how much for the keyboard in the back?"

"One hundred and fifty quid."

Abby's heart sank. There was no way she could afford that. "Blimey…must be pretty good, eh?"

Gary just stared at her.

"Have you got anything cheaper? Maybe a…not-as-good version?" she said.

He sighed audibly, before dragging himself to the back room to look.

Abby watched him go, biting on one of her fingernails anxiously. She needed something,  _anything_. She'd take a ruddy roll-out piano if she had to.

"This one here's fifty," Gary said, carrying a large box and dropping it onto the counter in front of him.

She winced slightly at his rough handling, but bit back any comment. "I'll take it," she said, pulling out her wallet.

"Brilliant," he said in a dull voice.

It was still more than she'd rather spend at the moment, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And these were desperate times, for sure.

Abby glanced around the room as Gary rang her up. She was nearly twenty-five years old, but walking into a toy shop still managed to bring her joy, somehow. Everything was always just so colourful and bright and it filled her with a nostalgia that was so sweet she could almost taste it.

One of the books near the front window caught her eye, and she walked over towards it immediately.

" _The Giving Tree_. Oh, I used to love this book when I was kid!" she told Gary excitedly, flipping through the pages.

"Fascinating," he said. "You're all set, then."

Abby looked over at him as he held out her new purchase, and then back at the book in her hands. A sudden idea struck her, and she couldn't help but smile. "I'll take this, as well, actually," she said, walking back to the counter. "And let's see…what would you recommend for an eight-year-old boy?"

"A puzzle?" he suggested with a bored shrug. "We've got a jigsaw of the Houses of Parliament."

"Erm…" she said, giving him a polite smile. "I was hoping for something a bit more lively."

He blinked.

"Right…maybe I'm just asking the wrong person," she muttered to herself. "There must be something all boys love."

"Football," he said.

Her head snapped up.

"Gary, you genius," she exclaimed, hurrying over to look through the sport section. After some consideration, she decided on a bright green football and placed it next to the book. "I hope you're right about this."

He simply stared at her once more before handing over her bags. "Thank you for shopping at Marvin's Toy World. Have a great day," he said in a perfectly monotone voice.

"You as well!" she said.

Abby walked down the road feeling much lighter than she had all week. She couldn't tell if it was because of the prospect of being able to play on something that at least slightly resembled a piano, or because of the gifts she'd just purchased. She absolutely loved giving gifts. Not the impersonal or obligatory sort, but the kind where you'd just see something in a shop window and  _know_  that it belonged to a certain person.

For some reason, she really wanted Al to have this book. She didn't know much about him, of course, but she knew that he loved to read and that said enough about his character, in her opinion. And while Harry may have just seemingly walked out of her life, Abby still found herself wishing that she could learn more about his children. From the very first moment he'd told her about them, she'd longed to meet them, to talk to them and know them. Because she understood. More than she wanted to, she understood.

Abby shook her head, looking at the front door of her flat in surprise. She'd been so consumed in her own thoughts that she'd walked all the way back home without even realising it.

Once inside, she immediately opened up the large box and set up her new keyboard. She took a moment to simply graze her fingers across the keys, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout her at the mere touch. She hadn't played a real piano in months. Ollie let her use an older one in the back of his shop once in a while, but her new job had made it near impossible to make it before he closed up each night. For now, the dismal excuse of a musical instrument in front of her would have to do.

She started out slowly, playing a few scales to warm up her fingers. It pained her to realise how out of practice she was. That was one of the things she loathed about time. It could make such stable things quietly crumble away while she had her back turned. And she'd had her back turned for far too long, it seemed.

Abby spent the majority of the afternoon reacquainting herself with the keys, brushing up on her technique as best she could. Minutes passed, or maybe hours. She could never tell. She'd always been one of those strange creatures who actually enjoyed practising as it filled her with a sense of satisfaction that she could never hope to achieve from anywhere else.

It was only the sound of her stomach rumbling that finally snapped her out of her haze. Checking the time, she noted with some surprise that it was nearly four o' clock. "Blimey…sorry little guy," she said, patting her stomach before getting up to make a sandwich.

She was in the midst of devouring her lunch/almost dinner when she heard her mobile ringing.

Abby groaned loudly and trudged back into the sitting room. "Better be somebody important, or I swear…"

Picking up her mobile where she'd deposited it on the end table earlier, she plopped herself down on the sofa and glanced at the screen.

Abby immediately sat up straight, feeling her heart plunge right through her stomach. "Oh, buggering hell," she whispered, before answering the phone.

"Hello?" she greeted, trying to sound cool and not ruffled at all.

"Hey," Harry's voice sounded in her ear. "Are you busy right now?"

"No, not at all," she said quickly.

 _Play it cool, idiot,_ she reminded herself.  _It's just Harry._

"Oh, good," he said.

There was a brief pause.

"Er...what's your schedule like next week?" he asked. "I was just wondering because, well, I thought we could hang out. But I sort of can't tomorrow, or the day after that, so…"

"What about today?" she said, trying not to get her hopes up too high, but failing miserably. "I mean, I know you're probably busy. Plus, it's really short notice. Too short actually…you'll have no one to watch the kids. You know what, never mind, forget that idea, I was only thinking that—"

"Abby," he said. "Just…breathe for a second."

"Right, sorry."

He let out a small laugh that set her heart beating just a little bit faster. She adored the sound of his laugh. Even before the whole realisation of her newfound feelings. The feelings which were a novelty that still rather surprised her.

She fancied Harry.

God, the thought seemed almost ridiculous. And yet, here she was, getting excited over the mere sight of his name on her mobile screen and the sound of his voice over the phone. Nobody ever sounded good over the phone. Nobody.

"Listen, I'll talk to their grandmother and get back to you, all right? She won't mind watching them for the evening," Harry said.

"Are—are you sure? I mean…I really don't want to cause any inconvenience," she said.

"It's no big deal," he assured her. "I'll call you back, yeah?"

"Yeah, great, perfect, sounds… _brilliant._ "

Abby shut her eyes and shook her head.

"Erm, okay," Harry said. "Bye, then."

"Bye," she said, hanging up the phone quickly before she could spout anything else out.

Abby threw her head back against the sofa. This was going to be difficult. She was already cursed with being weird, but somehow whenever she fancied someone, she would manage to exceed all odds and become even weirder. That usually ended with her driving the poor unsuspecting bloke away. And she did  _not_  want to drive Harry away. He simply couldn't know that she fancied him. Was she even allowed to fancy him? Oh, he'd probably be so annoyed with her if he ever found out. Or angry, or disgusted, or appalled.

But he would not find out. No, absolutely not. She would make sure of it.

* * *

Abby sat on the sofa, drumming her fingers against her knees in anticipation.

Any second now.

The knock on the door made her spring up from her seat. She swiftly walked over to open it and let a wide smile spread across her face the second she laid eyes on him.

Before he could even get a word out in greeting, she was already engulfing him in a not-so-graceful hug.

"Nice to see you, too?" Harry said, after she let him go.

"Sorry," she said, taking a step back. "You're just really huggable."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," he said.

Abby laughed lightly and moved aside to let him in.

"So, is there a reason you made me come all the way up here?" Harry said as they both sat down on the sofa.

"To chop up all your limbs and make them into soup," she said with an ominous look.

He stared at her. "That's sick."

She merely giggled, before leaning over to grab the Marvin's Toy World bag. "I actually wanted to give you something. Well, it's not exactly for you, but…oh, you'll see," she said, handing it over to him excitedly.

Harry gave her a questioning look before opening up the bag to examine its contents.

"That was one of my favourite books as a kid," she explained. "I saw it today, and it just made me feel all nostalgic, and then I thought of how Al loves to read, and I knew I just had to get it for him because it really is such a good book, with a great message, too. And then I bought the football because I got Lily that Bat Girl action figure a while back, and I couldn't get Al and Lily gifts without getting James something, as well. I mean, I don't even know if he likes football, but Gary at the shop said that all boys love football. Which really is an awful generalisation to make, now that I think about it, but—"

"Abby."

"Yes?"

Harry just smiled at her in amusement. "Thank you," he said, his tone filled with much more warmth than she was used to. "Honestly…you didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," she said with a shrug.

He nodded slowly, looking down at the book in his hands and tracing the title with his fingers. "It means a lot, you know. It…" He paused slightly before shifting his eyes back up to her. "Al's going to love it. He'll read it every night till he's got it memorised."

Abby beamed with affection.

"And don't worry about James," he added with a small laugh. "He'll be over the moon when he sees this. I guess Gary at the shop is a reliable source of information, after all."

She chuckled. "I'll make sure and let him know."

"You better not keep buying them things, though. They're spoiled enough as it is," he warned her.

"Hey, it's out of my hands," she said, holding them up in surrender. "I don't go looking for gifts, gifts come looking for me."

Harry grinned widely at her and shook his head. "You're absolutely mental."

"Yeah…yeah, I know," she said slowly, too enthralled with the sight before her to pretend to be insulted by his comment.

She'd never seen him smile like that before. It was so…happy and genuine and big. She'd been able to see his teeth perfectly, and she rarely ever saw his teeth. Which was a shame because she liked his teeth. They weren't too big or too small. Just the right size, really.

"You have great teeth," she blurted out.

Harry stared at her. "What?"

"I just mean…you should—you should smile more often," she said, feeling her face heat up. "Because you have nice teeth. Well, not  _just_  because of that. Everyone should smile regardless of how their teeth look. But…yeah."

"Well, thanks…I guess," he said, his mouth twitching slightly. "Can't say anyone's ever complimented me on my teeth before."

Abby was very tempted to ask what people usually complimented him on, but decided that she'd subjected him to enough creepiness for one day. Besides, it wasn't too hard to work it out on her own. Harry was…well, rather good-looking. She'd been aware of that well before her little crush. He had beautiful deep, green eyes that she had never seen on another human being before and messy black hair that looked so soft to the touch that she just longed to feel it between her fingers. His face wasn't the most handsome of faces, but it had a sort of subtle elegance to it that became more and more attractive when he actually opened his mouth, a trait which worked in quite the opposite manner in most other men she'd met in her life.

But that was the thing about Harry. It wasn't simply his physical appearance that made him appealing to her, or even to any other woman. It was something about the way he held himself. He walked with pride, but he never looked arrogant. He was quiet, but never seemed shy. He was straightforward, but never rude. And that was just the surface. There was so much more to him that Abby was only just beginning to discover that made him infinitely more attractive in her eyes. Things that most people wouldn't be bothered to learn.

Maggie had once commented that he was too gloomy and emotionless for her tastes. But she'd never seen the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his children. Or the way he'd try his hardest to hold back a smile before finally shaking his head and chuckling in mirth. She'd never seen the gentle expression on his face when he listened. Or the pain and sadness when he talked.

But Abby had seen those things. And they were far more beautiful than any aspect of his physical appearance.

"Listen, I'm going to keep these here for now, but I'll come back for them later," Harry said, placing the bag on the table and standing up.

"Why?" she said in confusion.

"Because we're going somewhere," he said, beckoning her toward the door. "Come on."

She followed him down the stairs and out of the building, feeling rather bewildered at the sudden turn of events. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he said.

"Is it a surprise?" she said, smiling in excitement. "Oh, I do love surprises."

"You'll see," he repeated with more emphasis.

Abby tried her best to stay patient throughout the remainder of the journey. She kept periodically glancing up at Harry's face for any clues about their destination, but he kept staring straight ahead, seemingly lost in the image of the sun starting to set over the horizon.

"Almost there," he said.

She looked at him in surprise. "How did you know I was going to ask?"

"You're not that hard to read."

She scoffed lightly. "Well, fine, if you're so clever…what am I thinking, now?" she said, walking backwards so he could see the sly grin on her face.

"Ow."

"What?" she said in confusion.

Before he could respond, Abby let out a painful grunt as the back of her legs came into sudden, sharp contact with the bench behind her. She nearly fell backwards onto her bum, but caught her balance just in time.

"You could've warned me!" she hissed at Harry who just stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her in mild amusement.

"Oops," he said. "Anyway…we're here. Surprise."

Abby glanced around, not noting anything particularly special about their surroundings. But as she stared at the bench she'd nearly tripped over and the river sparkling softly from the light of tall buildings in the distance, she felt comprehension slowly begin to dawn on her. "We came here once," she said, looking up at him. "A while ago…"

"The first time we ever hung out, actually," Harry said, taking a seat.

She smiled softly. "Yeah, that's right."

"You told me you didn't want to talk. You just wanted someone to sit here with you."

"How on earth do you remember that?" she said, joining him on the bench.

He shrugged, gazing out into the water. "I wanted the same thing."

He appeared to be lost in thought about something, and Abby felt it best not to intrude. She studied him subtly out of the corner of her eye instead, noting that his eyebrows were furrowed slightly, but his jaw was relaxed. She knew that was a good sign. Harry always clenched his jaw when he was on edge. He used to do it all the time around her, but he'd stopped at some point. Which was a relief because she'd started to wonder how his poor teeth could handle all the stress.

"This isn't the actual surprise, by the way," he spoke up, finally.

"No?"

Harry shook his head and then turned to look at her. "I know it's still a couple of days away, but…well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

Whatever she had been expecting to hear, it had not been that. Her mouth opened slightly as she took in a shallow breath. "What?" she said, barely above a whisper.

"Your birthday," he repeated, looking at her as if she were thick. "The 21st, right? It's on Monday."

Abby swallowed thickly, suddenly finding it hard to formulate a proper response.

"Anyway, I sort of got you something," he said, digging deep into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a small box. "It's no big deal or anything, but I thought you might like it."

She stared blankly at the box for a moment, not quite believing it was actually hers. "Harry…"

"Go on," he urged, placing it in her hand. "Open it."

She bit her lip as she ever so carefully pulled away the shiny red ribbon and removed the lid. Inside lay an intricately woven silver bracelet that was made out of what seemed to be a strong and durable material. There was a small encrusted charm hanging off the centre which she immediately recognised upon closer inspection.

"It's that one music symbol," Harry pointed out. "The swirly-looking one."

"A treble clef," Abby said quietly, trying very hard to push down the lump of emotions that were slowly building in the back of her throat.

"Yeah, that's it," he said. "Also, the guy at the shop said that the bracelet's made out of recycled guitar strings which I thought was pretty neat. I don't know…it's nothing too fancy, but I thought you might like it."

The lump in her throat was becoming almost painful now, but she looked up at him anyway, not caring if her eyes were a bit shiny. "I do," she nodded, her voice coming out a bit scratchy. "I do, Harry. I  _love_  it. This is…the sweetest, most thoughtful,  _wonderful_ gift you could've given me."

She placed it carefully on the bench before throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

She felt him gently hug her back, and she shut her eyes, taking a moment to just revel in him. His warm touch, his wonderful scent, the sound of his deep breathing. She didn't want to let go. She never wanted to let go.

But she did.

"I was going to get you a necklace," Harry said, as she slipped the bracelet on and did up the clasp. "But you always have that one round your neck already, so I figured you wouldn't want another."

Abby brought her fingers up to it as if in reflex. "I'm surprised you noticed," she said.

"You play with it a lot," he said with a shrug. "What is it, anyway?"

She glanced down, smiling softly as she held the small charm between her fingers. "It's, erm…it's a Tardis," she told him, feeling herself blush. "You know, from Doctor Who…"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Not a Whovian, then?" she said with a light laugh. "Yeah, I didn't think so. It's…sort of like a spaceship time machine thing. My mum gave it to me when I was little. She said it was so I could always remember that there's an adventure waiting behind every door. "

Harry took the small Tardis-shaped charm from between her fingers and examined it, making Abby feel inexplicably self-conscious all of a sudden.

"And do you?" he said, looking up at her, his green eyes shining brilliantly even in the night.

"Do I, what?" she said a bit breathlessly.

"Do you always remember that?"

"Oh, right. Yes," she said in a rush. "I mean, I try to."

"How?" he said, studying her so intently that she had to look away.

She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear for lack of anything better to do with her hands. "Well…just believe that every opportunity you're given has the potential to be something amazing," she said. "Even things that look ordinary, small, insignificant, they can be…bigger on the inside."

"All according to my Mum, anyway," she added. "But I happen to think she was rather brilliant."

"Was?" Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed.

She felt her face heat up.

"Erm…yeah, she died. When I was twelve," Abby said, feeling that familiar sense of awkwardness that arose whenever she had to explain to someone. But she supposed that if anyone could understand that sensation, it would definitely be Harry.

"She'd been sick for a while though, so it wasn't completely unexpected," she explained. "I suppose it's easier that way..."

"Is it?" he said.

She could hear the gentle doubt in his voice so clearly that it was almost deafening to her ears. Taking a shuddering breath in, she shook her head wordlessly.

"I'm sorry, Abby," he said, his voice filled with a sort of quiet defeat. "I'm really sorry."

She'd heard the same words a hundred times over, and never once had they brought her any comfort, merely indifference. Because they were just words. People threw them around easily because there was simply nothing else to say, and she understood that. She never blamed anyone for it.

But with Harry…it was different. She'd felt something when the words came from him. It wasn't comfort, but it wasn't indifference, either. The words felt like compassion. So deep and so true that she just wanted to sit here on this very bench and pour her whole heart out to him so that they could cry together. Harry understood pain. But he also understood her. And that made him different.

"There's so much I want to tell you," Abby choked out suddenly.

Harry's mouth opened an almost imperceptible amount. She knew that she should feel embarrassed about her vulnerable admission, but at the moment she just didn't care.

She stared at him, feeling her breaths coming out a bit shakily.

"I'm a good listener," he said, finally.

Abby shut her eyes tight, feeling the surprising wetness of her lashes.

"I know," she whispered.

* * *

Harry lay in his bed, gazing pensively at the ceiling.

He was thinking about a lot of things, but somehow his thoughts kept drifting back to Abby. They had both gone home Friday night with the promise to see each other soon, but it would be near impossible to do so until the following weekend. She had things to tell him that couldn't be said in a short visit to a coffee shop. He didn't know what these things were, of course, but he could tell that they were important to her. And if they were important, then he would make the time to listen. She deserved that, at the very least.

A sudden crash downstairs brought him abruptly out of his musings, and he leapt out of bed with his wand at the ready, all senses on high alert.

He opened his door and walked slowly down the steps, making as little noise as possible. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen and he inched forward as close as he could without being seen.

"…you idiot!"

"...could have warned me!"

"…probably woke him up…"

"…not  _my_  fault—"

"Shut up, the lot of you!" one voice carried over a bit louder than the others. "James, just give me the pan."

Harry settled himself at the bottom of the stairs, eavesdropping on the conversation in amusement.

"The toaster's smoking!"

"Maybe you should have taken out the toast then, genius," James said.

"It's supposed to come up on its own!"

"Just take it out before it gets burnt, Al," Teddy hissed. "James, pour the juice. Do  _not_  spill or it'll be your head."

"What should I do, Teddy?" Lily's voice squeaked.

"Go make sure Dad's still asleep," James said.

Upon hearing his name, Harry dashed up the stairs as quickly as he could and buried himself underneath the covers. He could hear little feet climbing the steps, making their way gradually to the first-floor landing. The sound of his door opening made him smile slightly, but he relaxed his features as Lily walked towards the other side of his bed.

She tapped him on the face a couple of times, but he kept his eyes shut. When he had apparently passed her inspection, she quickly ran out of the room and back down the stairs.

He didn't have to pretend to be asleep for long, though. Not five minutes later, there was a light knock on his door as all four kids entered the room, Teddy leading the way with the tray of breakfast in his arms.

Harry feigned confusion and surprise, as he let out a fake yawn and sat up in bed. "What's going on?" he mumbled tiredly.

"Happy Father's Day!" they all shouted, not quite in unison, but with equally bright smiles plastered across their faces.

He grinned widely at them, feeling his heart fit to burst.

"We made you breakfast, Daddy!" Lily spoke up first, running up and jumping on the bed so she could snuggle into his side.

"It's nothing too special," Teddy added, stepping forward and placing the tray carefully on the bedside table.

Harry glanced at the plate of slightly undercooked scrambled eggs, burnt looking bacon and toast, and a tall glass of orange juice and just smiled. "It's perfect. The absolute best breakfast I've ever laid eyes on," he told them. "Now come here, you lot."

He hugged each of them in turn, starting with Lily who'd immediately jumped into his arms.

"You really like it, Dad?" James said, after he'd gotten his hug. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Harry expectantly.

"I  _love_  it," Harry said, giving the boy a noisy kiss on the cheek that made him squirm away with laughter. "Thank you all so much, this is the best surprise ever."

"It was no big deal," Teddy said nonchalantly, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

Harry looked up at him with one eyebrow raised. "All right, come on, big-shot," he said, beckoning him over.

Teddy chuckled in amusement and walked over to give him a hug. "Happy Father's Day, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and held the boy tightly. He didn't get the chance to do so very often, so he took advantage of it as much as he could.

"All right, all right, I know I'm the favourite, but we don't have to go rubbing it in their cute little faces," Teddy muttered. "Now, be a good boy and eat your breakfast."

Lily giggled from his side. "Eat your breakfast, Daddy!" she repeated in a stern voice that sounded very much like the one he often used.

Harry picked up the tray beside him, all four kids spread out on the bed, waiting in anticipation for him to try his food. He heaped some eggs on his toast and took a bite, attempting not to grimace as the slightly bitter sensation of the charred bits hit his taste buds.

"Mmm," he said, smiling appreciatively. "So good."

"Really?" Al said.

"Mhm," Harry nodded in earnest.

"Try the bacon. I helped with that," James said.

"Mmmmm," Harry exclaimed even louder after taking a strong bite out of it.

The kids remained rooted in their positions until Harry had somewhat painstakingly eaten every last crumb on his plate. After he was finished, he smiled and thanked them all one last time before shooing them away to go get dressed so they could head over to the Burrow.

When they flooed in about an hour later, the house was already full to the brim and buzzing with noise.

"What the bloody hell are you wearing?" Harry said as he took a seat next to Ron on the couch.

He had what looked to be an orange woolly blob on his head that clashed terribly with his hair.

Ron scowled at him. "It's a hat, you wanker," he said, causing Audrey to give him a disapproving look as she walked by.

"Rosie's just learned to knit," he said. "She can only do hats at the moment which would be great if it weren't summer."

"And if it actually looked like a hat," Harry said mildly.

"Yeah, piss off, let's see you do better."

Harry chuckled as he leant his head against the back of the couch. They both sat there watching George entertain Molly, Lily, and Hugo with a few tricks from the shop. Lucy, who had just learned how to walk, was too busy grabbing various objects around her and throwing them over her head, nearly hitting Ron twice with a little glass figurine of a unicorn. Having had enough, he summoned it out of her hands with a well-placed Accio, causing the little girl to immediately burst into loud sobs.

"Smooth," Harry said as Ron quickly picked up the crying baby and tried to quiet her.

"Come on, who's a good girl?  _Lucy's_  a good girl! That's right…" Ron blabbered on, bouncing her up and down on his lap. "Lucy's such a good girl!"

Harry smiled as the little girl began to giggle. He'd always had a soft spot for her. She was the youngest of the Weasley clan, and therefore the only baby in the house. And sometimes he missed having babies around. He used to love just sitting and holding James, Al, and Lily when they were really small. With their wonderful baby-scent and their soft little hands and feet and all their excited high-pitched babbling. God, he missed it sometimes.

"Pass her over, will you?" he said.

Ron placed Lucy in his arms, and Harry let her rest against his chest as she watched George's little show with wide eyes and a slobbering fist in her mouth.

He was more than content to spend the next couple of hours just sitting there, but apparently there were other plans in store for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose hesitantly amble over towards him with a somewhat conflicted look on her face.

"Uncle Harry?" she said quietly, wringing her hands together.

"What is it, Rosie?" he said with concern.

Her eyes shifted around a bit. "It's…it's James."

Harry felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He knew Rose wasn't the sort to snitch on someone over a small prank or a mean joke. This had to be something else. "What about him?" he said.

Rose looked him straight in the eyes. "He's on a broomstick."

Harry's blood instantly went cold.

He could vaguely hear Ron say something, but he wasn't listening. He simply passed Lucy back over to him, and stood up abruptly before stalking out of the sitting room, through the kitchen, and out the back door like a madman in a rage.

He spotted him instantly, flying at a height well above the roof of the house.

"JAMES!" he roared, his wand at the ready just in case the boy lost his balance. "JAMES POTTER, GET DOWN HERE  _NOW_!"

James immediately flew back down, landing roughly on the ground as he looked up at him in fear.

Harry could hear the blood rushing in his ears and see white spots of fury flash before his eyes as his breath came out in shallow pants.

"Dad, I—"

"I don't want to hear it," Harry hissed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the house. "We'll discuss this at home."

He barely even registered the crowd of family members that had formed in the kitchen and that were now spilling out into the garden, observing the scene with worried eyes.

"Harry, just—just calm down," Hermione told him quietly as she stepped in his way. "You don't have to leave right now. It's supposed to be a happy day. I'm sure if James just apologises and promises never to go behind your back again—"

"We're going home," Harry said, gritting his teeth. "Now, please step out of the way."

"Harry, he was only—"

"DON'T!" he shouted, feeling his anger coming back to him in waves. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY CHILDREN, HERMIONE!"

She stood there like a statue, barely breathing before nodding her head wordlessly and stepping out of his way.

He immediately strode back into the house with James at his heels. Al had quickly joined them, as well, after having witnessed the whole spectacle, and the two boys flooed back home with Harry and Lily following behind them.

"Al, take Lily and go upstairs, please," he said as soon as they arrived. "I need to have a talk with your brother."

He nodded and grabbed the little girl's hand as they both left the room.

"Sit," Harry ordered once they were alone.

James did as he was told.

Harry took a moment to pace in front of the fireplace, one hand against his waist and the other repeatedly running through his hair.

"I don't ask much of you, do I, James?" he said, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him.

"I don't set too many rules, I don't punish you every time you get in trouble at school. You get away with so many things and that's my fault. It's _my_  fault," he said, patting his own chest for emphasis.

Harry let out a shuddering breath as he rubbed both hands across his face. "But this is different. God, this is… you  _know_  how I feel about this," he said, placing his palm against his forehead and closing his eyes for a moment. "The one thing I've ever asked of you, the  _one thing,_  James. Never… _ever_  go near a broomstick without me."

"But you hate everything about flying, Dad," James spoke up. "You won't even talk about Quidditch. I just wanted to learn how to ride—"

"You're too young to learn!" Harry said adamantly. "For Merlin's sake, you're only eight years old!"

"But you won't even teach Teddy, and he's thirteen! The only reason he knows how is because he learned at Hogwarts," James said. "And I bet you won't ever teach me, either. It's not fair, Dad!"

"Fair?" Harry shouted suddenly. "You want to talk about fair? Well I hate to break it to you James, but  _life isn't fair!_ "

"You think I don't want to teach you how to fly?" he continued, his voice still at the same volume. "You think I don't want you love it the way that I loved it? That I don't want you to play Quidditch and join the House team and become captain? I used to  _dream_  about you growing up and doing all those things…"

Harry collapsed down onto the table behind him, dropping his head into his hands. "James…I loved flying…I loved it so much. It was my passion," he said in a strangled voice. "But flying took your mother away…And I don't know if I'm strong enough to forgive that, yet."

The boy looked up at him, his warm brown eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Dad…" he uttered, his voice sounding so small that it made Harry's heart ache.

James leapt suddenly into his arms, holding onto him with a vice-like grip as he shuddered against Harry's chest and cried. "I'm sorry," he said shakily. "I'll never do it again, I promise.  _I'm sorry."_

Harry rubbed the boy's back soothingly, kissing his hair and muttering soft words of comfort to him.

"No. No, don't be sorry, James," he breathed, feeling his own eyes start to well up. "Not for this. This could never be your fault."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE:
> 
> So, I just wanted to forewarn you guys that the next chapter is going to be a little bit different. All of it will be set in the past, but it's going to cover a good chunk of time. It will focus mostly on Ginny's death and the repercussions of it, but will also touch up on a few other things that'll be important to the story later on. Now, I know that many of you are not Harry/Ginny fans or even just Ginny fans, but I just think it's really important to show how Harry's life was before her death and how it changed him as a person. There really won't be much romantic interaction, anyway, but I just thought it better to warn you. This also means that Abby won't be in the next chapter at all, obviously, but she'll begin to feature much more as Harry's two worlds finally start to meld together. So never fear!
> 
> ANYWAY, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was the longest one yet, and definitely took the longest to write. Thank you guys as always for your wonderful feedback. And to the guest reviewers who I can't personally respond back to, thank you so so so so much as well. You guys seriously make me so happy, and you always keep me motivated when I start to get lazy. You're all awesome!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a quick reminder that this chapter is set in the past. Also, I just want to put a warning up for language. There are two or three swear words in here.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way: please enjoy this chapter. I know it's extremely long and I'm sorry, but I just really didn't want to split this up into two chapters, so I hope you can forgive that!

 

Harry exhaled softly, his breath visible in the cold air as he stared out at the large building in the distance. They'd been staked out by the mountain side for several days now, finally detecting some suspicious activity last night after a thorough surveillance of the area.

"Right," he said, turning around to face his team. "We'll infiltrate in two teams of two: me and Davis, Barnes and Ellsworth. Let's go in, recover the stolen prototypes and go out, is that clear?"

Barnes crossed her arms with a sigh. "I still think we should just destroy them," she said. "Why risk a repeat offense? If they were able to steal something from DM once, they could surely do it again."

"Roth wants them recovered. Don't ask me why," Harry answered. "It's part of some Unspeakable research project he's undergoing."

"Pun intended?" Ellsworth commented.

"Always," Harry grinned.

Davis rolled her eyes. "Well, what exactly are they? And how the hell did someone manage to turn them into weapons?" she asked. "In Bosnia, for that matter."

"They're going to be small canisters filled with some sort of noxious fumes. These Bubble-Head charms weren't just a fashion statement. Do  _not_ cancel them under any circumstances. For now, we assume the gas is fatal," Harry said. "Of course, we did go over all of this in the mission briefing, but I do very much enjoy repeating myself."

"Eh, sod off, Potter," Ellsworth chided, punching him in the arm.

Harry ducked out of the way and then turned to look at them all once more. "Any more questions? I'd prefer if nobody died out of ignorance."

They shook their heads.

"All right, let's move. I'll take lead, Davis you're in back. Make sure you all stay tight," Harry said.

They walked through the snow covered path, using an Obliteration charm to conceal their footprints behind them. Once they'd reached the warehouse door, Harry moved aside to let Barnes inspect it.

"Just an anti-apparition ward," she announced, unlocking the door to let them in. "Looks like they're a little confident."

Harry walked in first, muttering a small 'clear' over his shoulder. He and Davis went right, while the other two went left, and they made their way silently through the dark and deserted corridors, checking every room they passed by.

"Clear," Harry said quietly, exiting the last room on the floor. "Let's head downstairs and check the cellar."

"I'm guessing a standard Summoning Charm wouldn't work?" Davis said.

"Already tried it," Harry said, lighting his wand as they descended further. "But it's good to know you would have thought of it eventually."

"Is that meant to be an insult?" she demanded.

He turned his head back and smiled at her. "Yes."

She gave him a dirty look, but didn't say anything more as they continued down the steps.

"Wait," Davis said suddenly, putting an arm out to stop him. "I think I heard something."

He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out an Extendable Ear. "They're too far away…" he mumbled. "Definitely voices, though."

"How many?"

"Three at least."

He switched on his magical earpiece and connected to the other line. "Ellsworth, I'm going to need you to prepare for the extraction plan."

" _Have we got company?"_ his voice sounded.

"Looks like it. Get the brooms ready and have eyes on top."

" _Copy that."_

Harry turned back around to face Davis. "You good?" he asked, trying to gauge her reaction. "It's not too late to back out."

"Piss off."

"All right, let's move."

They made their way down the rest of the steps with their wands at the ready. The cellar was dimly lit, but they both cancelled their Lighting charms to remain hidden. Harry crouched down behind a tall metal shelf and muttered a soft  _Homenum Revelio,_ detecting five markers towards the centre of the room.

"This way," he said. "Do not engage."

They shuffled through various shelves, boxes, and piles of rubbish before coming upon a group of men arguing near a stack of crates.

Harry lit up his wand, alerting them to his presence. "British Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he announced. "You're under arrest for the possession of weaponised items. If you could please drop your wands to the floor."

One of them swore loudly. "That's bloody Harry Potter."

"They're English," Davis remarked unnecessarily.

Before Harry could respond, however, a spell shot past and hit one of the shelves behind them causing the towering structure to sway precariously back and forth as various objects came crashing to the floor.

"Do we engage now?" Davis said dryly.

Harry conjured up a shield as three more jets of light flew their way. "Have fun," he told her, jumping over a pile of sandbags in front of him and charging towards the group in the middle of the room. A spell whizzed past his ear and hit one of the bags, causing a curtain of sandy dust particles to obstruct his vision. He shot a blind stunner at his attacker as he ran out of the fog.

The man managed to dive out of the way, but tripped over one of the crates in the process, leaving him wide open for attack.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, hitting him straight in the chest.

"Potter, your back!" Davis called.

He ducked down immediately, feeling a whoosh of air above him.

Two men were firing at him now, and he quickly moved away from the crates in case one of them had rubbish aim. He wasn't really in the mood to be poisoned by Roth's death gas.

Harry dodged a stream of purple light and aimed his wand at the rest of the sandbags, levitating them above their heads before firing a quick  _Reducto_. The small explosion of sand and burlap caused both men temporary visual impairment, allowing Harry to fire two more stunners, one hitting its target in the stomach and the other smashing into a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall.

"How's it going, Davis?" Harry called, conjuring a quick shield as his opponent aimed all the flying shards of glass back at him.

A few of them broke through and cut across Harry's arms as he held them up to cover his head.

"Swimmingly," she yelled back.

He chanced a glance at her side of the room to see that she'd already taken out one of the men and was now duelling aggressively with the other.

In the split second he'd had his head turned, however, a jet of light came hurtling towards him, connecting violently with his shoulder, and causing a torrent of blood to suddenly spurt forth.

"Shit," he hissed, clenching his jaw in pain as he grabbed his shoulder.

"Stupefy!" a voice roared.

Harry side-stepped the jet of red light rushing in his direction and shifted his attention back on his opponent. "Impedimenta!" he shouted, brandishing his wand swiftly.

The man dove out of the way. He crashed into a wooden table behind him, but quickly scrambled onto his hands and knees, jabbing his wand at a spot to the far right.

"NO!" Harry yelled, levitating the table to catch the brunt of the curse that had been heading straight for the crates.

But he was too late. The spell collided explosively with the crate at the bottom of the stack and it immediately burst into flames.

"DAVIS, MOVE OUT!" he shouted, firing one last Stunning Spell that successfully hit the man in the chest.

He ran over to the three unconscious bodies and placed Bubble-Head charms on each of them.

"Ellsworth," he said into his earpiece. "We need that extraction,  _now!_ The weapons are going to blow."

No sooner had he said the words than a thunderous  _bang_  echoed loudly throughout the cellar and shook the entire room. The force of the explosion sent him flying backwards against the wall like a rag-doll before crumpling into a heap on the floor.

"POTTER!" he heard Davis scream from the other end of the room.

"… _ready. Do you read me? Potter? Prepare for extraction…"_

Harry shook his head to clear it and looked around the room in a slight daze. He vaguely registered two figures zooming across the ceiling on broomsticks.

"Potter! POTTER!" someone yelled.

He felt himself being pulled up by a pair of arms and tossed onto the back of broomstick as he and whoever was steering, escaped the noxious flames of the cellar and flew back up the stairs and out of the building.

The last thing he heard before passing out completely were the words: "Roth is going to kill us."

* * *

Harry slid the back door closed as quietly as he could and turned around to face the darkened kitchen. The moonlight streaming in through the windows was much too dim to allow him a clear view of where he was walking, but he was too exhausted to even light up his wand. Instead, he trudged his way blindly up the stairs, wincing from the pain of his bag digging into his wounded shoulder.

He was just about to reach the landing when he suddenly felt someone grab him and turn him back around. His eyes shot open as an arm locked against his throat and a wand swam into his vision.

"Ginny," he coughed, attempting to break free from her grip. "What the hell are you doing?"

He heard a soft gasp and she abruptly let go, causing him to stumble on the steps.

"Harry? Is that you?"

"Who else would it be?" he said, rubbing his throat tenderly as he stood back up.

She lit her wand between them, and he could see a small look of amusement on her face. "Sorry," she said, not sounding very apologetic. "It's the middle of the night, I wasn't about to take any chances."

Harry didn't have time to reply as she threw his bag unceremoniously to the ground and pulled him in for a hard kiss. It took his weary brain a moment to register the sudden change of events, but he was soon moving his lips eagerly in response as they melted against each other.

He revelled in the overwhelming feeling of contentment and pleasure that washed over him. It had only been a week since he'd last seen her, but it felt like months.

Ginny pulled away, slightly out of breath and with her forehead resting against his. "I missed you."

"I couldn't tell."

She grinned and pinched the back of his neck. "Come on," she said, leading him into the bedroom. "You smell terrible and you look as if you're about to fall over."

Harry followed her inside and immediately collapsed on the bed as Ginny dug around for a clean set of pyjamas. "Aren't you going to shower first?" she asked, placing them next to him.

He groaned. "I can't move."

"Oh, my poor baby," she said with a mock pout, sitting down beside him and running a hand through his hair.

Harry shifted his head onto her lap and let a relaxed smile spread across his face. All hopes of getting out of bed now seemed completely lost as the gentle pressure of her fingers against his scalp slowly made his eyes begin to droop. Indeed, he would have soon been completely out cold were it not for Ginny's knee coming into sudden sharp contact with his injured shoulder.

Harry let out a hiss of pain as he shot up in bed.

"What is it?" she asked, her forehead creased in worry.

"Nothing…just a scrape," he replied, turning his head away from her as he held his arm gingerly.

Ginny pursed her lips so tightly they almost disappeared. "Shirt off, now," she ordered.

"I love it when you talk—"

"Harry, shut up and take your shirt off," she said sharply.

He let out a small sigh and attempted to pull it over his head, but had to stop about halfway when the stinging sensation became a bit too overwhelming. He let his arms fall to his sides in defeat. "Can you help me out here, Gin?"

She clicked her tongue and immediately banished it for him, letting her eyes rove over his injuries.

"You call this a scrape?" she demanded, already setting her wand to work. "What in Merlin's name were thinking coming home like this? There's an infirmary at the Ministry for a reason! You can't honestly tell me you were expecting to heal all these wounds on your own."

"Sort of, yeah…"

Ginny let out a noise that sounded very much like an angry growl.

"It was just a Cutting Curse," he said a bit defensively.

"Oh, just one, was it?" she retorted. "How were you even allowed to leave Headquarters? Robards cleared you, didn't he? Oh, the next time I see that minging little tosspot, I  _swear_ …"

Harry sat there patiently as she continued muttering angrily and casting healing charms on the shallow wounds across his chest and back and the much deeper one along his right shoulder. She disappeared into the bathroom for a minute, before walking back out with various potion flasks in her hands.

"I didn't realise we were so well-stocked on blood-replenishers," he commented with one eyebrow raised.

Ginny gave him a withering look. "I like to be prepared whenever you go off on a mission," she said. "I know how thick you can be about seeing healers."

Harry smiled softly at her. "I love you."

"Just drink your potion," she stated.

He did as he was told, grimacing slightly at the familiar bitter taste.

"How do you feel, now?" Ginny asked, her tone a little less harsh.

"Brilliant. Just a bit sore," he admitted. "How will I ever repay you?"

"You can start by showering," she said, pushing his head away as he attempted to brush his lips across her neck.

Harry rested his forehead on her shoulder for a second, before mustering up what little energy he had left and dragging himself into the bathroom.

* * *

"…Jamie, I said no."

"But I wanna see him!"

"Daddy is very sleepy, and he needs his rest. You'll have the whole day to play with him."

"But Mummy!" Al's voice sounded. "What if he sleeps forever?"

"Don't you start, as well. I've had enough whinging for one morning," Ginny stated. "Now, I'm going downstairs to make breakfast. You can either come with me or stay in your room. Neither of you are to wake your father up, do you understand?"

Harry could hear James and Al break out into small grumbles outside the door, and he couldn't help but smile fondly. The hardest part of going on a mission abroad was being away from his family. Over the years, he'd reached a position at work where he had the benefit of being more selective about the cases he took on, but it still wasn't enough to guarantee his complete choice in the matter. Especially considering the weight that his name carried. No matter what part of the world, people always seemed to call on Harry Potter. Which was somewhat flattering for about his first two assignments until it just turned into a marvellous nuisance.

He sighed heavily and shook his head of these thoughts. Sitting up in bed, he stretched out his stiff muscles before making his way into the now empty corridor. He knew he'd get an earful from Ginny later, but he couldn't possibly go back to sleep now knowing that his sons were as desperate to see him as he was them.

Harry's heart instantly warmed as he poked his head in their room and saw two dark, messy heads bent down in concentration over a brightly coloured set of gobstones.

"You cheated!" Al squeaked.

"How?" James said.

"You moved the blue one, I sawed you!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Maybe there's something wrong with your eyes."

"No, there isn't!"

"Yes, there is!"

"No, there isn't!"

"Yes, there—"

"Boys," Harry interrupted. "Let's not fight over a game, now."

James and Al whipped their heads around and let out identical loud gasps.

" _Daddy!_ "

Harry's face split into a wide grin as he knelt down on the floor and opened his arms wide. They bolted straight towards him and fell into his embrace, squeezing him for all he was worth.

"We missed you," James said with a bit of accusation in his tone.

"I missed you lot, too.  _So_ so much."

"Then whyja have to go?" Al said, resting his cheek against Harry's shoulder. "I don't like it when you go."

Harry pulled them both closer to him and kissed the tops of their heads. "Neither do I, kiddo. But I'm going to try very hard not to anymore, okay? You both just have to be patient with me."

"I hate being patient," James mumbled.

Harry smiled and reached out a hand to tickle his belly causing him to squirm away with reluctant giggles. Al, who was watching his brother's plight with clear satisfaction, let out a sudden squeal of laughter as Harry started attacking him, as well. They were making so much noise that they didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

"What on earth is going on here? I told you boys to play quietly while— _Harry?"_

He turned around to see Ginny standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

"It's not their fault," he said immediately.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "What are you doing awake?" she demanded. "Do I have to strap you in bed and force-feed you a sleeping draught?"

"I'm fine, Ginny," he said in exasperation. "I don't have to go in for work until Monday, anyway. I'll sleep in tomorrow to my heart's desire."

She gave him a look that clearly stated she didn't believe him. "I don't know who you think you're helping with this behaviour of yours," she told him quietly. "Because you're not helping yourself, and you're definitely not helping this family."

"What behaviour, exactly?" he said, standing up so they were face to face. "Wanting to see my kids after being away from them for a week?"

"Oh, don't be thick," she hissed. "After every mission, it's the same thing. You come home with bumps and bruises that you don't even bother getting checked—"

"Don't tell me we're back on this again—"

"You deprive yourself of sleep in order to satisfy the whims of your children, and then spend the rest of the day overexerting yourself despite the obvious pain and exhaustion you're still feeling," she continued undeterred. "And then, you don't even take a proper day off before you're already back working in the office. It's not healthy, Harry! You need to start taking better care of yourself or you'll get burnt out before you're thirty."

He clenched his teeth, feeling irritation bubble inside of him. "You act as if this happens every day. I went on, what…five, six missions this year?" he retorted. "And do I really need to remind you that the reason I work so hard in the first place is so I no longer have to go on these missions? Or do you want me to become Head Auror by simply waving around a name tag and pointing at the scar on my forehead."

"Oh, for the love of—You know what, I can't even talk to you right now. You're being completely insufferable," she said, shaking her head. "All I want from you is to take better care of yourself. I'm sorry if that offends you so much."

Before he could respond, Ginny turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, whipping her flaming red hair in his face in the process. Harry just stood there for a moment, hating the feeling of guilt that was slowly growing inside of him. He tried pushing it away and holding onto his irritation instead, but that somehow just made him feel guiltier.

"Daddy, what does infusserable mean?" James asked.

"Er…"

Both boys stared up at him curiously.

"It means Mummy's really annoyed with me."

"Is she gonna put you in time-out?" Al said with wide eyes.

Harry sniffed in amusement. "Probably. But I'll worry about that later," he replied. "Now come on, I think it's time for breakfast."

James and Al raced down the stairs and into the kitchen with Harry following behind them. He could already hear Lily's incoherent babbling from outside, and when he entered, she looked up and squealed loudly, bouncing in her high chair and moving her fist up and down in excitement.

Harry beamed as he picked her up, swinging her around and showering her little face with kisses. "How's my Lily flower doing this morning? Is she happy to see Daddy?" he asked in a silly high-pitched voice that always made Lily and the boys giggle. "Cause Daddy is so so so so happy to see his baby girl! Yes, he is…yes, he is…"

"She missed you, you know," Ginny said with a small smile.

"Really?" Harry replied eagerly, turning around to face her. "How could you tell?"

"She'd just always stare at every door like she was expecting you to walk through," Ginny explained with a shrug. "Then she'd start to get fussy when you didn't show. She was fussy all week, actually. Especially before bed. It was a nightmare trying to get her to sleep."

Harry placed a kiss on Lily's forehead, feeling utterly horrible at the thought of not being there for her when she'd wanted him.

"Don't, Harry," Ginny said softly.

"What?"

"I didn't tell you those things to make you feel guilty."

He sighed heavily, placing Lily back in her high chair. "I know," he mumbled. "I just can't really help it."

Ginny placed a hand against his cheek, shifting his head back towards her. "Yes, you can," she said simply. "You can work hard at your job and earn the Head Auror spot that everyone knows you deserve. And then you'll never have to leave us again."

"Unless, of course, you suddenly find yourself fed-up and in the need for some exotic women from Brazil or something," she added.

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "So I'd have your blessing, then?" he asked.

"No, but you would have my foot up your—"

He placed a finger on her lips.

"I was going to say bum," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Sure you were."

James and Al suddenly erupted into little snickers.

"Mummy said bum!" James exclaimed, his voice filled with mirth.

Harry chuckled lightly along with them causing Ginny to roll her eyes and mutter something that sounded like ' _boys'._

She then set to work preparing Lily's breakfast, and he leant back against the worktop and watched her for a moment. He wasn't sure if they were completely back on good terms yet, or if they'd even been fighting to begin with. All he knew was that he had the strongest urge to pull her hair away from her face. So that's what he did.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Your hair was in your face," he explained.

She looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.

Harry simply smiled in response. "So, listen…"

"Hmm?" she responded, taking a small bite of what looked to be some very unappetizing baby oatmeal.

"I'm sorry about before," he said quietly. "You're right, I was being thick."

Ginny placed the bowl in front of Lily and began the arduous process of trying to feed her. "Harry," she said with a sigh. "You know I love you."

He was waiting for the inevitable 'but', but it never came.

"And I never want to imagine what my life would be like if anything were to happen to you," she continued, looking up at him seriously. "It's enough that I go mad with worry over your job. Please don't make me worry over such trivial things like you not getting enough sleep, as well."

Harry looked down at his feet and nodded, feeling his face burn slightly with shame.

"I know this might be a novel concept to you, but it's okay to care about your own well-being, sometimes," she said, taking one of his hands in hers. "Even act a little selfishly."

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

Ginny grinned and stood up to give him a peck on the lips. "Well, I don't know about that…See, if I just press the right buttons," she whispered into his ear, "I think even you can be a little selfish…"

Harry's eyes widened. "Er…yeah, maybe."

Ginny giggled lightly. "Oh, you're really lucky you're cute," she said, patting his cheek before settling back down to continue feeding Lily.

Harry just shook his head and went to sit next to Al whose fingers and mouth were currently covered in marmalade.

"Can we go on your broom today, Daddy?" James asked as soon as he sat down.

"I don't know…." Harry said hesitantly. "It might be a bit chilly out."

"We'll wear our jackets!"

"We'll wear our jackets!" Al repeated enthusiastically, sitting up on his knees.

They stared at him with large hopeful eyes. Harry glanced surreptitiously at Ginny to see what her reaction was, but her face remained relatively expressionless. So, he turned back to them and smiled brightly. "Yeah, all right."

They both let out whoops of joy.

"Is that okay?" he asked Ginny quietly.

She gave him a look of exasperation. "Harry, they're your children. You don't need to ask my permission about every small detail of their lives."

"Right," he nodded.

"Just wait at least half an hour after they've finished their breakfast and make sure they dress warmly."

"Right," he repeated.

"And  _don't_  overexert yourself," she added, giving him a pointed look.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She ignored his comment and turned back to Lily who was squirming in her seat and making little noises of discomfort. "Come on, flower. Just a little sip for Mummy," she said, holding up a bottle of formula.

Ginny took it in her own mouth instead and pretended to suck on it with a look of satisfaction, but Lily wasn't having any of it. She just stared at her mother for a moment before scrunching up her face.

Harry braced himself for what was to come next, and sure enough, she opened her mouth and let out a piercing wail that echoed throughout the room and made him suddenly regret not taking the headache-relieving potion that Ginny had placed on his bedside table.

The woman in question was currently doing her best to calm the baby down, rubbing her back soothingly and muttering little words of nonsense in her ear.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked once her cries slowly began to subside.

Ginny exhaled heavily and sat back down with Lily in her arms. "She refuses to take a bottle. I tried formula, I tried my own milk, but nothing works. She's only just starting to eat solid food, but she's being really picky about everything. I feel like I need to have her attached to my breast 24/7 or she'll starve," Ginny explained. "She's nearly seven months old, now. James and Al were both using a bottle at this point."

Harry tried giving her a sympathetic look, but she just ignored him and continued with her rant.

"What with all that and then her teething, I'm getting so behind on work these days," Ginny lamented. "The Quidditch All-Star Weekend is just around the corner, and my boss wants me in charge of interviews which I haven't even begun to research questions for yet. And then, I'm somehow expected to play in the Celebrity Match even though I haven't been on a broom in nearly three months. People are going to boo me off the field, Harry. I'll be the laughing stock of the entire league."

His mouth twitched slightly.

"Do I amuse you?" she snapped.

"Not at all," he said. "It's just…you are being a bit dramatic, aren't you? No one's going to boo you off the field. You'll be amazing up there whether you train or not."

"And it  _is_ technically supposed to be just for fun, remember?" he added, knowing full well how competitive she could get.

"Oh, I plan on having a lot of fun," she nodded. "Slaughtering the other team."

Harry just shook his head in amusement. "As for this one," he said, walking around the table to lift Lily up from Ginny's arms. "We'll just have to keep practising with that bottle, won't we? Maybe it'll taste better when Daddy feeds it to you, eh Lils?"

"Yeah, good luck with that," Ginny remarked, summoning all the dishes from the table and into the sink. "Boys, go wash up and then put your toys away if you want to go on Daddy's broom."

" _All_ the toys?" James exclaimed.

"All you have out are your gobstones, last I checked. Those won't take very long to put away, will they? Now, go on," she said, shooing them out of the kitchen.

It was midmorning when the whole family stepped out into the garden. Ginny settled down on the porch with various scrolls of parchment while Lily played with a pile of leaves on the ground near her, giggling happily every time she threw one up in the air.

Harry walked over to the broom shed as he zipped up his bright orange Chudley Cannons windbreaker. He'd got it at a match once after Ron had insisted that it complemented him much better than the green Harpies one. And Harry, who knew better than to take fashion advice from his best friend, had simply bought it to tease Ginny.

"All right, boys. Did you decide who's going first?" he called, pulling out his Firebolt and turning around to face them.

"Me, me, me!" they both shouted in unison, jumping up and down with their hands raised.

"Who went first last time?"

"He did!" they said, pointing at each other.

Harry crouched down and stared into James' eyes first before shifting to Al. "And who wants to tell me the truth?"

They both remained silent for a moment until Al exhaled loudly, his shoulders visibly deflating. "It's James's turn."

Harry smiled at him. "Thank you for being honest," he said, kissing him on the head and standing back up.

He swung his leg over the broom and scooted back a bit before turning to face the other boy. "All right, Jamie, hop on."

James grinned and mimicked his father's actions, grasping the shiny wooden handle tightly in his small hands. Harry placed a quick sticking charm on him before reaching around and placing his own hands further up, surrounding him in a protective embrace.

"Hold on tight!" he exclaimed, bracing them both as he prepared to kick off.

James shrieked with excitement as they darted up in the air. "Higher!" he yelled over the crisp autumn wind whipping past their faces.

"What?" Harry said, feigning ignorance.

"Higher!"

"I can't hear you."

"HIGHER!"

"If you say so…"

He leaned back a bit, before zooming straight upwards towards the sky and rolling over in a tight corkscrew that had James pealing with euphoric laughter.

Harry never got over this feeling. The sound of his son's pure happiness, the way the wind rippled through his hair and clothes, the weightlessness and wonder and joy that tingled throughout his insides and filled him up until he would nearly forget how to breathe. Flying was his passion. And he cherished every moment he was able to experience it with his sons.

After about half an hour of various stunts and manoeuvres, he decided it was Al's turn to join in on the fun. James always liked to go out with a bang, so Harry leaned forwards and told him to hold on very tight one last time. He did as instructed, his little legs dancing with excitement, and Harry pulled them straight up towards the sky before whipping around and heading rapidly for the ground in a sharp dive that made the wind roar in their ears.

He pulled up into a smooth landing, and then cancelled James' sticking charm.

After taking Al on an equally thrilling broom ride, Harry finally collapsed on the porch next to Ginny. He leant back against his elbows, and watched idly as the boys worked on gathering up a large pile of leaves to jump in.

"Good job not overexerting yourself," she said mildly. "Exactly how exhausted are you, right now?"

"Enough that I can't manage a clever retort."

Ginny gasped. "The horror…"

He shoved his knee against hers, making the scroll in her lap fall to the ground.

"Very mature, Harry."

"Thanks," he said, winking at her.

"Lily's right next to your feet, by the way," she warned him, as she bent down to pick up the parchment. "Be careful you don't bump into her."

Sure enough, he felt a tiny hand tugging at the hem of his jeans. He leaned over to lift the bundled up baby into the air causing her to kick her legs out excitedly and gurgle at him.

"I can't get over her little cheeks, Gin," he said, standing Lily up in his lap. "And these little fingers…and this little nose…I could just eat this little nose."

Harry brushed his own against hers playfully before planting a small kiss on it.

"I'm glad she got your nose and not mine," Ginny mused, observing the scene with a fond expression.

"Why, what's wrong with yours?" he asked.

"It's a bit too broad for my liking," she said. "Yours is thinner and more delicate."

Harry snorted. "Delicate?"

"Mhm," she responded with a little smirk.

"I'm not sure if I should feel emasculated by that or not."

"You shouldn't. It's very attractive," she said, leaning over to place a kiss on it. "And these…are very attractive lips."

She caught them with her own and started moving them slowly, but passionately, with hers. Harry was taken aback by the sudden intensity of what he'd expected to be a light peck, at most. When he felt her tongue fighting to gain entrance into his mouth, he broke away very reluctantly and stared into her chocolate brown eyes. There was a glazed look in them that made him want to pin her down on the porch right then and there, but he resisted the delicious urge.

"Baby alert," he blurted out, lifting Lily up between them.

Ginny just looked at him for a second before bursting out into laughter. "Sorry, I just really missed you," she said, placing her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, well, don't worry. That makes two of us," he assured her.

They sat in that same position for a while, Ginny on his shoulder and Lily in his lap, observing the scene before them. The boys were still attempting to gather up all the leaves in the garden, going back and forth with large heaps of them in their arms. Poor Al's leaves kept blowing away every time he tried to throw them in, and a fed-up James finally showed him the proper way to place them on the growing pile.

"I love autumn," Ginny said.

"Mmm," he responded, smiling at the sound of the boys' chattering voices carrying through the wind and echoing loudly in the garden.

"The weather, the colours, the feeling…"

"What feeling?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I dunno…it just feels cosy," she said, closing her eyes as another cool breeze rippled across their faces. "Like home."

Harry glanced down at her. The wind was playing softly with her hair, and he breathed in its flowery scent as it wafted up his nostrils. It was still the most wonderful smell in the world to him. He marvelled at how it used to make his heart race. Now, it just calmed him down. Relaxed him like nothing else in the world could.

"Home's pretty great," he replied finally, kissing both his girls on the head.

Ginny snuggled deeper into his side. "It is."

The sound of excited voices suddenly caught his attention, and he looked up to see James and Al waving their arms at them.

"Mummyndaddy, watch, watch!" James called. "Watch this!"

"Are you watching?" Al shouted.

"We're watching, we're watching!" Ginny laughed, waving back at them.

"Do onya marks!" James said.

Harry pulled out his wand and then cleared his throat dramatically. "On your marks…" he began in a deep, booming voice. "Get set… _"_

" _GO!"_ he declared, sending red sparks up into the sky.

James and Al sprinted full speed ahead towards the now very massive pile of leaves in the middle of the garden and flung themselves into it one after the other. Their small bodies got buried beneath the pile, and they had to fight their way back out.

James emerged first and immediately picked up a small chunk of leaves to pelt at Al's face. It was an all-out war from then on with handfuls being thrown back and forth and up in the air, some landing on their target and some being blown away with the wind.

Ginny got up at one point and joined in, using her wand to summon great piles of leaves that swirled rapidly in the air before falling like a shower around them.

She aimed a small clump towards Harry's head, but he quickly ducked out of the way. "You're going to regret that," he called out to her, holding Lily in one arm and his wand in the other as he raced over towards them.

Lily bounced excitedly up and down, catching leaves around her and throwing them back in the air.

"At Mummy, Lils. Throw them all at Mummy," Harry urged, levitating the entire pile above Ginny's head.

"Harry…" she exclaimed, holding out an arm as she tried catching her breath from her laughter. "Harry…wait…"

"What do you think, boys? Should I do it?" he asked them.

"Do it! Do it! Do it!"

"If you say so…"

"Harry, n—!" The rest of her words were cut off, however, as the mountain of leaves came crashing down upon her and she fell backwards onto her bum, shaking with so much laughter that she couldn't seem to summon enough energy to stand back up.

Instead, she just lay there panting slightly, with her flaming red hair splayed out on the leaves around her. "I'm going to kill you," she said as Harry sat down cross-legged next to her with Lily in his arms.

James and Al joined them, as well, each boy lying on either side of their mum and chattering excitedly about what just happened.

"Nah, you like me too much," Harry replied.

"Regrettably," she said. "But don't worry, I'll get you back for this."

"Yeah? How so?"

Ginny stared at him for a moment, before laying her head back down and shutting her eyes.

"I'll start by burning that stupid jacket."

Harry just laughed.

* * *

"Al, can you hold still, please?" Harry said quietly as more people crammed into the lift.

He was jumping up and down and bumping into several Ministry workers who were all visibly doing their best to maintain their composure. Harry smiled apologetically at them, fairly certain that they wouldn't be so forgiving if it was anyone else's kid. He felt guilty about that, but he knew there nothing he could do about it, so he merely gripped Al's shoulders to prevent him from testing their patience any further.

Once they reached their floor, he clasped the boy's hand tightly within his own and quickly exited the lift. As they walked through Headquarters, Harry smiled and greeted various workmates before plopping down in his small, open cubicle and setting Al in a chair next to him. He was looking around the room with clear awe on his face, his head whipping back and forth every time a memo flew by.

"You having fun so far?" Harry asked, removing Al's backpack and placing it on the desk.

He nodded enthusiastically. "I wanna purple aeroplane, Daddy," he said, pointing up at one above their heads. "Can I have one?"

"If you're good."

"But I always be good, right?" Al said.

Harry smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Right."

"Who's this little fella, then?"

Harry glanced up as Barnes rolled over in her chair and grinned at the small boy. Al immediately turned away from her, however, and hurried over to stand between Harry's legs.

"Sorry, he's just a little s-h-y around strangers," he told her, placing the boy on his lap. He nudged him gently to say hi, but Al merely buried his head against Harry's chest.

"How old is he?" Mel asked.

"Go on, Alby, tell her," Harry urged. "How old are you?"

He held up three fingers.

"Blimey, aren't you big?" she exclaimed.

"I be bigger in Decbember," Al mumbled quietly. "Right, Daddy, I be four?"

"That's right," Harry nodded. "Only a few more weeks away."

"But Jamie's biggest. He's this much," Al said, holding up his whole hand this time.

"Yes, well, it looks like  _you're_ the lucky one who gets to visit Daddy at work," Mel said.

A small smile appeared on Al's face and he lifted his head up a bit so that he was now sitting straighter in Harry's lap.

"Yeah, Ginny's out training for the match this weekend," Harry said. "He insisted on coming with me instead of staying with his grandmother."

"Good choice," she said, giving Al a wink. "How is Ginny, by the way? Is she as excited about the match as the rest of Britain seems to be?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, she's excited," he said. "I'm slightly afraid of what's going to happen if her team loses."

"Considering the betting pool that's been going around, I think a lot of people have that same fear," she said. "But I've got full faith in her. Been a Harpies fan from the start, I have. Her run on the team was the highlight of my twenties."

"A bit sad, that."

"Oh, you'd think otherwise if you attended some of those after-parties," Mel said matter-of-factly.

"Anyway," she added with a sigh. "I should get back to work. It was wonderful meeting you, Al. I hope you have a lovely day."

He waved good-bye and she smiled brightly at him and returned the gesture before rolling back over to her cubicle.

The rest of the day went by rather normally after that. Al spent most of his time playing with legos, and occasionally asking Harry random questions. He loved asking questions. Harry often had no idea how certain things seemed to pop so suddenly in his mind, but he figured it was a good thing that his son was curious. And even though it was exhausting sometimes having to provide answers for why boats floated in water or grapes could be either green or purple or why the sky didn't just fall on everyone's heads, he never told Al to stop. Because if the Dursleys taught him anything, it was how stomp on a child's imagination. And he wouldn't be doing that to his children.

"Potter," a voice called.

Harry looked up to see Savage standing over his cubicle. "Listen, I hate to do this, but we need you for a consult," he said. "And I don't really think the kid should sit in on this one."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Can't you get someone else?"

"The boss asked for you specifically," Savage answered.

"Great…" he said, rubbing a hand across his face. "All right, I'll be there in a sec."

The man nodded and walked back towards the conference room.

Harry glanced around, wondering who he could possibly leave Al with. "Hey, kiddo, I'll be right back, okay?" he told him, before walking over to Mel's desk.

"Can I ask a huge favour?"

She looked up at him questioningly.

"Robards needs me in a meeting. Would you be able to watch Al for a bit? He'll just sit next to you and play quietly, I promise. You won't even know he's there."

"Sure thing, Harry," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"Thank you so much," he said. "I owe you one, big time."

She chuckled. "It's no problem at all."

He thanked her one more time, anyway and then headed back towards his desk.

"Hey, Alby," Harry started hesitantly. "So, I have to go in that room over there for a little bit, but I can't bring you with me. Would it be okay if you sit next to the nice lady we met earlier and play with your toys there?"

Al's mouth opened a bit and his eyebrows creased anxiously. "But I don't want you to go."

"I know," Harry replied, kissing him on the head. "I don't want to go either, but I have to. I won't be far away, though. If you really really really need me, then you can ask Mel to come and get me, okay? But I need you to be brave. You're my little warlock, right?"

Al mumbled something.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Harry said, cupping his ear. "Are you my brave little warlock?"

"Yes," he answered more clearly.

Harry smiled and took his hand. "Then you'll be just fine," he promised.

Despite that calming reassurance, though, Harry was on the edge of his seat all throughout the meeting. He'd never left Al alone with strangers before. He trusted Mel, of course, but Al barely knew her. And it usually took him much longer than a five minute conversation to open up around a person.

What if he needed the loo, but was too shy to ask? What if he got hungry? He didn't have lunch too long ago, but maybe he wanted some dessert?

When Robards finally released them an hour later, Harry practically ran out of the room. The sight that met him when he reached Mel's desk, however, was definitely not what he'd been expecting.

Al was sitting in his chair, swinging his legs happily as he slurped his way through a red ice lolly, half of it dripping on his hands and clothes.

"Daddy!" he cried as soon as he saw him.

Al ran towards him and threw his arms around his middle, dripping red ice lolly and all.

Harry crouched down to return the hug. "Sorry, I took so long. Did you have fun?"

He nodded enthusiastically in response.

"I took him on a small tour of the floor," Mel said, walking over towards them. "He was reluctant at first, but then he got pretty into it. Started asking me about a million questions a minute."

Harry laughed and kissed the boy's messy face.

"And we met a bunch of people, didn't we, Al?" she said, smiling down at him. "Some Aurors, some Hitwizards, even an Unspeakable!"

"Poor Roth looked like he'd never even seen a child," she told Harry in amusement. "He started showing him these weird gadgets as if they would somehow catch his interest. Maybe the Unspeakables just recruit young."

Harry chuckled. "Thanks for everything," he told her. "Really, I owe you one. Would a signed Harpies jersey do the trick?"

Her eyes widened and she grabbed him forcefully by the collar "Are you pulling my leg?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not pulling anything. It's yours if you want it."

"Signed by  _the_  Ginny Weasley?" she clarified.

"Well, she's sort of Ginny Potter now."

"The real fans never transitioned," she said, with a brush of her hand.

"Glad to hear it," he said, picking up his things and summoning all of Al's toys into his backpack. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out. You can expect your compensation very soon."

"I'm holding you to that."

She bid them both good-bye and gave Al a hug before Harry took his hand and walked them back towards the lift.

* * *

Harry was trying very hard to focus on the report he was reading. His eyes kept skimming over the same sentence multiple times, but he just couldn't seem to grasp a single word of it. He finally quit trying and looked up with a small sigh.

"Something wrong, Gin?" he asked.

She'd been clattering about their room for the past half hour, walking back and forth, opening up random drawers, reorganising things that didn't need organising. It was a bit distracting, to say the least.

"What?" she said vaguely, taking off his socks for him and throwing them into the dirty laundry basket.

"You seem a bit…frazzled," he said.

"I do?"

"Just a bit, yeah."

"Oh," she said, plopping down on the bed next to him.

"Listen, if it's about the match tomorrow…" he began hesitantly.

"Harry, don't be silly," she cut in.

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were about to," she said. "Look, I'm not nervous, all right? I'm just…"

"Jittery?" he offered.

Ginny let out a sniff of amusement. "Yeah…that," she said. "I want to do well, you know? Not for anyone else, just for me. Just so I could know that—that I still could've been up there. Being a Harpy."

"Of course you could have," Harry said. "No one ever had any doubt about that."

"Well…I'm sure that's not completely true, but I appreciate the sentiment," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I  _am_  excited, though. A little too much. It's probably why I can't sit still. Maybe I should go start the laundry."

"It's nearly midnight," he said with a laugh, pulling her back in bed. "Just relax, Gin. Read a book or something."

She sighed heavily and lay back on her pillow. "I can't just sit here and read. I don't have that kind of patience."

"Then go to sleep," he suggested.

She didn't respond, so Harry assumed it was safe for him to pick up where he left off on the report. He wanted to get as much done tonight as possible, as he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to squeeze in any time for work tomorrow. Not that he wanted to, of course. Tomorrow was strictly about Ginny. And he couldn't wait to spend it cheering her on.

In the meantime, though, he was stuck here reading through messily handwritten mission reports.

He let out a small yawn and stretched out his neck from side to side as he picked up the next one. Before he could open the file, however, he felt a small pressure on his abdomen and looked down to see Ginny's hand resting there idly. At first he paid it no mind and simply shifted his eyes back up to the report. But before long, he could feel her lift his shirt up and start to trace little patterns against his skin.

Harry did his best to focus, but once again, she was being distracting. And he was pretty sure she was doing it on purpose, this time.

"Gin…" he chided gently. "Come on, I've got work to do."

Her hand stilled. For a moment, Harry thought he was in the clear until he felt her fingers slowly running along the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

"Ginny," he said.

"What?" she asked innocently.

He opened his mouth to retort, but let out a sudden hiss as her hand slipped even lower.

Harry placed his papers haphazardly on the bedside table before rolling over so he could pin her underneath him. "Did you want something?" he asked.

"Just my good luck charm," she said with a mischievous smile. "Might need it for the match tomorrow."

Harry sighed. "Well…I guess if it's for the good of Quidditch."

Ginny merely giggled before bringing his head down and hungrily attacking his lips. He responded with fervour, pulling away to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck that made her moan softly beneath him.

He moved off her for a moment as he fumbled around for his wand to cast a Silencing Charm.

"Already did it," she told him.

"When?"

"While you were reading."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you just assumed you'd get your way, then, did you?"

Ginny grinned and pulled him back towards her. "I always do," she whispered, taking his earlobe in her mouth and sucking on it gently. "Now, how about we take some of these clothes off, yeah?"

All thoughts of work and mission reports and anything even remotely intelligible completely faded from Harry's mind and were replaced solely by the utter pleasure he was receiving from the beautiful witch in his arms. He didn't think he could ever get used to the way she made him feel. So filled with passion, yet so incredibly at peace, it was almost incomprehensible. She was just so warm and so safe. Like finally coming home after being a lifetime away.

Harry placed a kiss on her forehead. "I love you," he said, as she lay against his chest sometime later.

She smiled up at him. "I love you, too, Harry," she replied, raking her fingers gently through his hair. "And I'll never stop."

* * *

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Ginny had woken up before him and was already dressed and preparing breakfast by the time he got out of bed.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked with a small yawn as he entered the kitchen.

"Thought I'd let you sleep in a bit," she shrugged. "I don't have to be at the pitch for another half hour."

"Then you should be focusing on the match, not making breakfast," he told her. "Just go, Gin. I've got it covered here."

"Fine, but let me get the kids ready."

"Ginny," he said loudly, grabbing her elbow before she could walk out the door. "I've got it covered."

"All right, all right," she said. "Just…make sure they're in plenty of layers and that they bring something to play with. Especially James. You know how he gets when he has to sit in one place for a long time. I just fed Lily, but if she gets hungry again during the match, I've also packed some baby food. Try the peas first. If she's being too fussy then cut up a banana for her. Also—"

"Ginny!" he cut her off.

"Right, sorry," she said quickly, giving him a guilty look. "I just…I don't know how long the match will last. It could go on all day, Harry. I've never been away from them for that long."

"They'll be fine. I promise," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do, you idiot."

Harry smiled. "Then you've nothing to worry about."

She breathed a heavy sigh and nodded.

He was about to lean in for a kiss when a small body suddenly rushed into the kitchen and collided straight into their sides, forcing them to break apart. A loud crash along with an exclamation of 'oops' was then heard as one of the pans on the cooker fell to the ground.

"Teddy!" Ginny exclaimed, hands on her hips and a menacing look on her face that made Harry instantly pity the boy. "Do I really need to tell you not to run in the kitchen? You could've burned yourself!"

"Sorry," he replied with an overly sweet smile.

Ginny just shook her head in exasperation. "You silly boy," she said, pulling him in for a hug. "Did you just get here?"

"Mhm. Do you like my look?" he asked, stepping back for both of them to see.

Teddy's hair was half green and half gold, and he wore a Harpies jersey over his jacket that came down to about his knees.

"I tried morphing my hands into talons to look more like a harpy," he said, holding them up. "But I just ended up growing my fingernails really long, instead. Grandmum nearly had a fit."

Ginny giggled. "Very cool," she nodded in appreciation. "Don't you agree, Harry?"

She pulled Teddy's hand over and started poking him in the side with the boy's nails.

"Yeah, marvellous," he replied. "Now, stop that."

Teddy snickered and poked him once more in the stomach before Harry trapped both his claw-like hands in one of his own and used his other arm to imprison the boy against him.

"All right, well, I'm going to head out, now," Ginny announced. "You'll meet me by the locker rooms before the match starts?"

"We'll be there," Harry said, still holding a struggling Teddy.

She gave them both kisses on the cheek, before heading out into the garden and apparating away.

The rest of the morning was more hectic than Harry cared to admit. He'd gotten the kids ready loads of times before, but rarely ever all at once and with Teddy over his shoulder being more of a hindrance than a help.

"James, you're wearing the hat and that's final," he said, shoving it on the boy's head.

"But Teddy's not wearing one!" he whined, stomping his foot.

"That's cause I'm older and I can do what I want," Teddy supplied from where he was lying casually on James' bed.

Harry gave him an unamused look, and then turned back to the boy in front of him. "If you don't wear it, then you'll get sick and have to drink a bunch of yucky potions," he said. "Do you want that to happen?"

James shook his head.

"Good, then keep it on," he said abruptly.

Harry then walked over to pick up Lily who was currently attempting to take off Al's shoe while the boy sat quietly on his bed, flipping through a picture book.

"All right, come on you lot. We've only got seven minutes for the portkey," Harry said, ushering them out of the room and down the stairs as quickly as he could.

He checked about five times to make sure that everyone's fingers were placed firmly on the old shoe, until finally, he felt the familiar pull around his navel as they were transported away.

He heard someone call out his name as soon as they landed, and turned around to see a small group of Weasleys walking towards them. Ron was leading the way, covered head to toe in Cannon's gear. One of their retired beaters, Joey Jenkins, had made it on the team as a reserve. And according to Hermione, this had gotten Ron more excited than the day Rosie first learned how to walk.

"I see Ginny dressed you this morning," Ron stated, eyeing Harry's green attire with distaste. "You know Puddlemere United's got two guys up there."

"I'm aware," Harry replied. "Which is why I also wore this."

He pulled up the Harpies jersey discreetly to reveal the blue and gold one underneath it, causing Ron to snicker in appreciation and give him a high five.

"If you boys are quite finished," Hermione said, walking up to them with a small carrycot in her arms where a sleeping Hugo lay. "We'd like to take our seats."

The journey to their box was a stressful one for Harry. His heart had nearly stopped three times along the way due to James' unfortunate habit of wandering off. Harry repeatedly ordered him to stay close, but it wasn't until he threatened to hold his hand and let Al walk by himself, that James finally complied.

When they reached their seats, there was still an hour left for the match to start. All the Weasleys minus Molly and Charlie were present, now, and Harry was fairly certain that their box had to be the noisiest one in all the stadium. The kids were laughing, playing, and fighting. The adults were discussing anything and everything about Quidditch, work, and family. Harry would find himself going back and forth in conversation with various people and it was chaotic and exciting, but somehow never overwhelming. That's the way it always was with the Weasleys. The only thing that could make it better would be having his wife by his side.

"I'm going to go wish Ginny good luck," Harry told Ron and Hermione.

"Oh, right. That barmy superstition about snogging you before a match," Ron said, with a slightly revolted look.

"We don't snog, you prat," Harry said. "I just…calm her down."

"Right…" Ron said slowly. "There's snogging involved."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Go on, Harry. We'll watch the kids."

"I'm going to bring them with, actually," he replied. "She was having this weird separation anxiety this morning. I think she'll probably want to see them."

"That's odd," Hermione mused. "She's been away from them before when she's commentated on matches."

Harry just shrugged. "Whatever makes her feel better."

He bid them both good-bye as he held Lily against him and led the boys back downstairs. Ginny was waiting for them outside when they arrived, and a large smile spread across her face as they neared.

"Thanks for bringing them, Harry," she told him quietly as she took Lily from his arms.

"Mummy we sawed you in the sky!" James said, grabbing onto her leg. "We sawed you flying!"

"You did?" she exclaimed. "Well, you're going to see me fly lots more really soon."

"How did the warm-up go?" Harry asked.

Ginny sighed and gave him an annoyed look. "Not well. They're making us all use these weird prototype brooms as some sort of advertisement strategy. I've been flying on mine all week, and I'm now very certain that I won't be investing in one in future."

"Why not?"

"It's got this auto-lock feature that allows you to set the broom in a certain direction so that you can theoretically fly with no hands. Which would be great for Quidditch, except that it's a right pain to switch on and off," she explained. "I even did it by accident once."

"Have you got it figured it out now?" Harry asked.

"For the most part. I've just got to remember I'm not flying my own broom," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, I can't take long, but I want to say good-bye to my little loves first."

She planted small kisses all over the parts of Lily's face that were still showing amidst the confines of her coat and hat. "Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy, Lily?" Ginny cooed. "Yes, you are! My flower is going to be such a good girl."

Lily gurgled happily, bringing her hand up to Ginny's face and hitting it lightly as if to show affection.

Harry smiled and took the baby from her arms. "All right, boys. Say good-bye to Mummy," he told them.

"Bye, Mummy!" they said in unison, hugging her close as she crouched down to give them kisses, as well.

"Now, I want you both to be on your best behaviour," she said, pointing a finger at them in warning. "Listen to whatever Daddy says and don't cause too much trouble."

"Not even a bit?" James asked.

Ginny pretended to think about this for a moment. "Okay, maybe just this much," she said, holding up her thumb and forefinger together.

"Thanks, Gin," Harry said dryly as James and Al giggled.

She gave him a wink before squeezing both boys tightly once more. "I love you both so so so much."

"Love you, too!"

"Love you, too, Mummy."

She stood back up with a sigh. "All right, wish me luck."

"Good luck," Harry stated.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Thanks, that was really motivating."

Harry laughed and pulled her in for a short kiss, before resting his forehead against hers. "You don't need any luck. You're going to be great," he told her. "And I can't tell how excited I am to see you back up there, doing what you love."

Ginny placed a hand against his cheek, brushing her thumb gently across it. "You know I never regretted it, right? Quitting, I mean," she said. "I'd do it all over again without a second thought."

"I know, Gin," he said. "I never doubted that."

She nodded and gave him a soft smile. "I love you, Harry."

"Love you, too," he replied, giving her one last kiss on the forehead.

"And remember, win or lose, you've still got these little trophies," he added, gesturing to the kids.

Ginny giggled. "That, I do," she said. "Take care of them, all right?"

"I'll think about it," he shrugged.

She shoved him playfully in the arm. "Okay, I should really get back now or my teammates are going to have my head," she declared. "But I'm going to be looking out for you all while I'm up there, and I better see you having a good time. Do you promise?"

"Promise!" James and Al exclaimed happily.

"Good," she said with a smile. "Bye, now!"

Harry stood there with the kids as they all continued waving good-bye until the last of her flaming red hair disappeared behind her.

* * *

"And it's Potter with the Quaffle! She zooms down the pitch, dodges a well-aimed Bludger from Broadmoor, passes to Chambers who passes back to Potter! Potter is nearing the goalposts now…"

"AND SHE SCORES!" the announcer bellowed. "Potter scores against Finwick and that puts the South ahead 70-60!"

The excitement in the box was near deafening as everyone cheered. James and Al were jumping up and down, spilling their Bertie Bott's beans everywhere and not caring in the least.

"Mummy scored, Mummy scored!" James exclaimed, nudging Harry's knee back and forth to get his attention. "Didya see, Daddy?"

Harry laughed. "I saw, I saw," he said.

"They need to get that Finwick oaf out of there," Ron told Harry over the noise. "He's not doing anything for the North. They should switch him out for Jenkins."

"You mean that old codger who looks as if he'll blow away with one small gust of wind?" George asked.

"Eh, piss off," Ron told him. "He's a Cannon's legend."

"That's not saying much, little bro."

Harry chuckled softly, earning a glare from his best friend.

"Jamie, look!" they heard Freddie exclaim suddenly. "Aunt Ginny has the Koffle again."

They all focused their attention back on the match, and sure enough, Ginny had intercepted the ball once more and was now manoeuvring across the pitch as her fellow chasers joined her side. She made to dart upwards, drawing the other team's chasers with her, but at the last second, dropped the Quaffle to Chambers, instead, who zoomed towards the goalposts at breakneck speed and scored another point for their team.

"And we're back at a twenty-point margin, 80-60 to the South with the Snitch still nowhere in sight. It's turning out to be one exciting match, Ralph," the announcer's voice boomed.

"Yes, Steven. Potter and Chambers really seem to be taking charge here. But let's not forget the North's powerhouse beaters. Simmons, in particular, is putting up a spectacular, if not brutal, offensive. And I'm starting to wonder if he's missed having that bat in his hand a little  _too_  much."

"Oh!" Steven broke in suddenly. "Oh, would you look at that! Potter's just stolen the Quaffle again right from under Jernigan's nose and is now racing to the other end of the pitch!"

"But  _wait!"_ Ralph roared even louder. "Peltier is in a dive! It looks like she's seen the Snitch! The South's Beaters appear to be in disarray, Steven. Will they risk going after Peltier who could very well be feinting, or will they continue defending their top Chaser from Simmons' wrath?"

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they watched the scene before them. Ginny was still soaring towards the goalposts, most of the players following after her, completely unaware of the action on the other end of the pitch.

"Those idiots are leaving her wide open!" Ron said, as the beaters changed direction to aim at Peltier. "That's rubbish defence, that is!"

"I thought you were cheering for the other team?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, I'm cheering for both," he said distractedly.

They all watched as a powerful swing by Simmons caused the other Bludger to head straight for Ginny. She seemed to hear it coming as she looked over her shoulder and leaned forwards on her broom to swerve out of the way. But for some reason, she didn't appear to be following through.

"Why isn't she moving out of the way?" Angelina asked in confusion. "It's going to hit her!"

Even from where he was standing, Harry could see the urgency in Ginny's posture. She'd let the Quaffle slip from her fingers and one of her legs was kicking at the bristles of her broom frantically as she headed towards the goalposts at break-neck speed, a Bludger flying straight at her head.

Realisation dawned on him like a ton of bricks.

"She can't change direction," he said suddenly.

"What?' Ron asked.

"She can't…her broom…"

And just like that, something switched on inside of him as he passed Lily over to Hermione and pulled out his wand, rushing towards the very edge of the box.

"Harry, what are you—?" Hermione asked.

"I have to stop her!" he yelled, his heart drumming loudly in his ears.

She was seconds away from crashing, and the other players around her had only now just realised that something was wrong.

"But there's a shield around the entire stadium. You can't possibly do anything to stop her!" Hermione exclaimed.

Voices erupted all around him in confusion and worry and fear. He could hear James calling him and feel someone tugging at his leg. But all he could think about was getting to her. He needed to get to the pitch. He needed to save her. He'd jump out of this very box if he had to.

But he could feel someone grabbing his arm and forcing him back and he could hear the thousands of collective gasps echoing simultaneously throughout the stadium, and as he looked up one last time, he could see Ginny, as if in slow motion, crashing straight into the goalposts at the very same second that the Bludger finally connected with her head.

And then she fell. And all the noise around him died in his ears.

He felt his legs move of their own accord towards the stairs, the image of Ginny crashing replaying in his head again and again and again until he could barely see straight.

A crowd of players were already forming around her when he reached the pitch, but he pushed through them aggressively.

"I need to see her…I need to…I NEED TO SEE HER!" he shouted, forcing them to part the way for him.

He finally caught a glimpse of red hair and ran, falling to his knees beside her.

"Ginny," he whispered, not quite comprehending the image before his eyes.

She was splayed across the ground in an unnatural fashion, the red of her hair clashing sickeningly with the dark blood soaking through it. It was everywhere. On the grass underneath her head, on her ghostly pale face, on his fingers as he shakily touched her cheek.

"Mr. Potter, sir…Mr. Potter…can you hear me? Mr Potter?"

Harry snapped his head up as he felt someone touch his shoulder.

"We need to get your wife to St. Mungo's. She has a pulse, but it's very faint," a mediwizard explained, conjuring up a stretcher as he levitated Ginny's limp body onto it.

Harry grabbed onto the man's arm with a vice-like grip. "Help her," he said. "Please… _please_ , you have to—"

"We'll do everything we can, Mr. Potter. We'll be transporting her to the Emergency ward. You can meet us there," he told him, before turning around and portkeying away.

"Harry!"

"HARRY!"

"Harry, what's going on?"

He looked up to see Ron, George, Percy, and Bill running towards him.

Harry stood immediately, the shock lifting from his mind to be replaced by a sudden sense of urgency. "Ginny's hurt, we need to get to St. Mungo's," he said. "Where are the kids?"

"Dad and the others are taking them over to the Burrow," Bill answered. "Is it bad?"

Harry's eyes shifted to the blood stains on the grass. He could feel a lump growing painfully in his throat and heavy dread settling in his stomach. "We need to get to St. Mungo's," he repeated.

* * *

It was chaos.

Reporters everywhere, bright cameras flashing in Harry's eyes, everyone calling his name, throwing questions at him, enclosing him in their tight little circle. He couldn't even breathe.

And the entire time, all he could hear were the words going through his mind over and over again like a broken record.

_I need to get to Ginny. I need to get to Ginny. I need to get to Ginny._

In a sudden fit of anger and desperation, he took out his wand and blasted away all the people in his path. Their shocked cries filled his ears, but he paid them no mind as he sprinted through the hospital corridors with the Weasleys close at his heels.

"Ginny Potter. I need to see Ginny Potter," he told the witch sitting at the nurse's station.

"Er…she's in Trauma Room One. The healers are currently trying to stabilise her. It's highly recommended that you sit in the waiting room until—"

"Sit in the waiting room?" George retorted. "We're her family, we want to see her!"

"I understand, but—"

"Look, are we allowed in or not?" Bill asked.

The nurse looked up at them with hesitancy in her eyes. "One of you," she said quietly. "I'm sorry…"

Harry stared at her for a moment, wondering why her apology seemed so heavy.

"Go on, mate," he heard Ron say as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should be with her."

He nodded his head wordlessly, giving the nurse one last calculating look before rushing down the corridor.

He could hear frantic voices emanating from the room before he even entered. And the sight that met him when he did was a bit too overwhelming to handle. He stood speechless for a moment, watching in a daze as the healers rushed around casting spells over every inch of her body, shouting out orders to the nurses, racing back and forth to grab vials of potions.

There was so much blood. He followed a trail of it as it dripped slowly from her hair to her sheets and formed a small pool on the floor.

"Oh, Ginny…" he breathed, clutching a fistful of his hair as he braced himself against the wall.

One of the healers looked up and noticed him in the room. He was saying something, but Harry couldn't understand. They were all saying things, but none of the words made sense. It was all just a jumble of noise. The only thing he could hear was the steady  _drip, drip, drip_ of her blood spilling onto the floor. It was so loud. How could they not hear it? He wanted to scream at them to listen. She was losing all her blood. She needed it!

But they'd stopped moving. All of them. They'd just stopped. They'd stopped casting spells, they'd stopped shouting orders. They just stood there.

"Keep going!"he said, looking up at all of them wildly. "Please… _please!"_

"Mr. Potter…"

Harry ran up to Ginny's side and took one of her hands in both of his. She was so white. Even her freckles had lost all colour.

"Mr. Potter…your wife has suffered severe trauma," a voice said gently.

"No…you just have to…y-you have to keep going," he choked out, stroking an unsteady hand against her cheek. "You have to keep going."

"The blow to her head caused damage before she even hit the ground," the voice continued. "And with the fall…there was simply too much internal bleeding…"

"NO!" Harry said suddenly, turning around and grabbing the healer's collar with both his hands. " _You're not done yet_."

The man looked at him with deep sadness etched on his face. "I'm—I'm sorry, sir, but your wife is—"

"DON'T SAY IT!" Harry screamed, feeling his entire body shake as rage flowed through his veins. "SHE'S NOT DEAD, YOU BASTARD. SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

But even as he said it, the truth came crashing down upon him in waves, and he fell to his knees and clutched desperately at his stomach. "No…no, no, no, no, no…She's not…she's not dead…she's not…"

This couldn't be real. None of this was real. Ginny couldn't be dead.

"Please…" he begged to no one in particular, his voice like a small child's. "Please…I can't lose her…I can't lose her, please…"

"Sir, I understand this must be distressing for you…"

Harry let out a sudden wracking sob as he slammed his fist against the wall. Tears spilled from his eyes and blurred his vision, and he felt like he was choking on them as he struggled to catch his breath.

It was physical torture. It was a pain in his chest and stomach that made him want to claw at his very insides. And there was no relief. Every second only made it harder as the realisation kept on hitting him again and again like being doused in ice cold water.

_She's gone…She's gone…SHE'S GONE…_

Harry moaned loudly and threw his head back against the wall, clenching his teeth tight as he shut his eyes.

He could hear new voices in the room now, but he barely registered them. They were so far away. Their cries and shouts were like echoes at the end of a tunnel. And he didn't want to acknowledge them. He didn't want to open his eyes or see their faces or even move. It would just make everything real. And he didn't want this to be real.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stayed against the wall in that same position. It could have been minutes or hours or maybe his entire life. All he knew was the salty taste in his mouth and his stuffed-up nose and his scratchy throat and sore eyes.

"Harry…" a voice said softly.

There was a hand on his arm.

"Harry…they're moving her."

His head shot up. Hermione was staring at him with red eyes and a blotchy face, but he paid her no mind as he stood unsteadily on his feet and rushed over to Ginny's side. There was a nurse standing there giving him a sympathetic look that made his insides turn, but he ignored her and gazed down upon Ginny instead.

"No…" he said, his breathing become more and more laboured the longer he stared at her lifeless form. "No…please don't take her…"

"They're going to get her cleaned up," Hermione told him.

"But she's not coming back," he whispered shakily, picking up Ginny's hand and placing a kiss on it. "She's not coming back, Hermione…"

He didn't think he would ever forget the way it felt to see Ginny's face being covered by a white sheet. The image burned against his eyelids long after she was moved out of the room. Until all that was left of her were the bloodstains by his feet.

And he just stared at them in a daze.

"It's my fault," he said quietly.

"Harry…no," Hermione responded, shaking her head.

He looked up at her. They were the only ones in the room now. "She told me there was something wrong with the broom, Hermione. She  _told_  me. I should have…I should have…" he said, taking in shallow breaths, as he placed a hand on his head and paced back and forth. "It's all my fault."

"No," she said, walking up to him and grabbing his shoulders. "Look at me…this is  _not_ your fault. Don't you dare start blaming yourself."

He pushed her arms aside and covered his face with his hands.

"Don't do this, please," she said, a slight tremble in her voice. "It was an accident. A horrible, horrible accident. There was nothing you could have done."

"I could have told her to switch brooms," he said through gritted teeth. "Why didn't I tell her?  _Why?_  WHY DIDN'T I FUCKING TELL HER?"

He kicked his leg against the metal cart next to him and sent it crashing into the wall.

"IT'S ALWAYS MY FAULT, IT'S ALWAYS MY GODDAMN FAULT," he gasped, clutching at his shirt like a madman. "Everyone,  _everyone…_ it's always my fault…"

"AND I'M SICK OF IT," he shouted at the ceiling.

He collapsed against the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, biting his knuckles to keep from crying out.

This was too much. It was all too much. It had only been a couple of hours and already he felt like giving up.

He looked up at Hermione who was staring at him silently with fresh tear streaks running down her face. "How am I supposed to live without her?" he said in a small voice.

Hermione didn't respond. She didn't say anything. She just sat down across from him and laid his head against her shoulder, rubbing his back gently as he wept.

* * *

Harry stared out at the pond in front of him. He'd been sitting in this exact same position for a while now: knees bent, arms clasped tightly around his legs. He didn't know what time it was, but night had finally fallen. It was cold, but he barely felt it. Every part of him was numb. His fingers, his toes, his face, his mind, his heart. He couldn't feel a thing.

He knew he had to go back. He had to face them, but the thought alone made him want to retch.

How could he possibly say the words? How could he look them in the eye while he tore their whole world apart?

He didn't want to do this. He'd give anything not to do this.

But he had to.

Harry braced himself against the tree behind him as he stood up, his joints audibly cracking and a needle-like sensation running uncomfortably throughout his limbs. He could barely feel his feet as he trudged along the path to the garden.

When he reached the back door of the Burrow, he just stood there for a moment, staring blankly at it. His numbness was now slowly melting away to be replaced with cold, hard dread. He hadn't seen any of the Weasleys yet, and a large part of him wanted to avoid that confrontation as long as he could.

But it had been long enough, already.

He raised a hand to the door and knocked, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

It was Arthur who answered. His face was drawn and tired, his entire posture slumped. Harry had seen him at many low points before, but he never remembered him looking so defeated.

"I'm sorry…I just came for the kids," he said, not meeting his eyes. "I'll—I'll leave after…"

"Come in," Arthur said quietly, moving out of the way so he could enter. "They boys are upstairs in…her room. Lily is with Hermione."

Harry gave a short nod, and headed over to the staircase.

"Harry."

"Yes?" he asked, turning back around to find Arthur looking at him with a troubled sort of expression.

"Stay close, son."

Harry stood frozen for a moment, not quite understanding what the man was referring to but nodding his head nonetheless. He then turned to face the stairs once more, his dread coming back in full force and making his insides feel like lead.

He'd spent hours out by the pond trying to think of what he would say to them, how he would make them understand. But there were simply no words. Nothing he said would ever make it hurt any less.

Harry exhaled heavily before knocking on Ginny's bedroom door. Hermione opened it, holding Lily in her arms and blocking the boys from view.

The sight of his little girl caused an instant feeling of warmth to spread throughout his heart. And after hours of nothing but pain and numbness, the feeling was so overwhelming that it nearly brought tears of relief to his eyes.

"C'mere, flower," he said softly, reaching out to take her in his arms.

Harry breathed in her scent deeply and let it calm his growing nerves. If he just closed his eyes and held her close to him, he could almost pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist. He could pretend that this day had never happened. And that he could be happy and his children could be happy and that Ginny could be with them, always.

"Harry," Hermione said, breaking into his thoughts. "Are you going to tell them now?"

He swallowed thickly before answering. "I suppose."

"Okay, well...well, I've sort of been reading up a bit on the subject," she started hesitantly. "And according to what all the books say, you should try and be direct with them. Don't be overly complicated in your explanation, and stay away from euphemisms. They can't stress that enough—"

"Hermione," he said tiredly.

"—Phrases like 'going into a deep sleep' or—or 'going away'. Young children won't really be able to comprehend that—"

"Hermione…"

"—And sometimes it can even do more harm than—"

"Hermione,  _please,_ " Harry said through gritted teeth. "Please, just…stop."

She gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I really appreciate you…you know, doing all this, researching, whatever. But…" he said, massaging his temple. "Look, this isn't something you can just read in a book, all right? This is reality, this is my life. So, let me take care of my own kids, yeah?"

"Right…I'm sorry," she said, avoiding his eyes. "Do you want me to take Lily while…?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," he said, handing her back over.

"I'm here if you need me, Harry," she said, touching his arm lightly. "We all are."

He watched her walk down the stairs, and then turned back to the door, rubbing his face with his hands and taking in a deep breath before entering.

"James, Al?" he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to them. "Can I talk to you both for a moment?"

"Daddy, you're back!" Al said, dumping his toys on the floor and hurrying over to sit next to him.

"How come you and Mummy were gone?" James asked with a small scowl.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Harry said, feeling his heart beat rapidly in his chest. "You, er…you both saw Mummy fall during the match, yes?"

They nodded.

"The budger was going after her and, and she was flying so fast and she went  _smack_  into the hoops!" James said, using his hands to re-enact the scene. "It was so fast, Freddie didn't even seen it!"

Harry's stomach lurched uncomfortably. "That's right," he nodded. "But, um, the thing is…the thing is Mummy got hurt really badly when she fell. And she had to be taken to hospital."

"Does she feel better, now?" James asked.

Harry let out breath as he ran a hand through his hair. "No…no, she—"

The words died on his lips as he saw the boys stare at him curiously.

He took a moment to regain his composure, before trying again. "The healers couldn't make her feel better," he explained carefully. "They tried really, really, really hard, but nothing could save her."

"You can save her, Daddy!" Al piped up with a smile. "You always save the people and you fight the bad guys."

Harry shut his eyes for a moment and leaned over to rest his forehead on his clasped hands.

He couldn't do this. How was he supposed to look at their innocent faces and tell them? There was no way he could do this.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" James asked, wrapping a hand around Harry's wrist.

Harry took the small hand in his own, trying to gain as much comfort from it as he could before looking back up at them. "I can't save her," he said softly. "Nobody can. Mummy is…she's dead."

They stared at him in confusion.

"Her heart stopped beating. So she can't live anymore," he said, the words like acid on his tongue. "She can't live with us, she can't live with anyone."

"Where will she go?" Al asked.

"She'll be…somewhere in the sky," he said shakily, forcing a smile on his face. "With the stars and the moon and all the planets. But we won't be able to see her."

A look of concentration passed over James' face. "Can we talk to her?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Then why would she leave?" James said angrily. "She didn't even say goodbye. That's not nice!"

"I don't want Mummy to leave," Al added, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Mummy had no choice. She didn't want to go. She would never, ever want to leave you," Harry told them fiercely, feeling his eyes start to well up. "Please, you have to—you have to understand that. She didn't want to go."

Harry blinked his tears back in frustration.

"But she'll come back, right?" Al said, nodding his head and smiling.

Harry took him in his arms and buried his face in the boy's hair. "No," he said. "No, Alby, she's…she's dead now. And that means she's not going to come back."

James stood up, breathing heavily and balling his fists at his side. "Well, I don't want her to be dead!" he shouted, kicking one of his toys across the room. "Bring her back! Bring her back,  _now!"_

Harry shook his head, feeling completely at a loss. "I—I can't," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Jamie."

James' bottom lip quivered and he took in several shallow breaths, before his face slowly turned red and tears began spilling rapidly down his cheeks.

Harry rushed over and clutched the boy to his chest, holding onto him as if his life depended on it. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" he repeated again and again. Al, who wasn't quite sure what was happening, but usually copied whatever his brother did, rushed over to Harry's side and started crying, as well.

Harry leaned back against the bed, staring hopelessly at the ceiling as he clutched them both close to him. "Mummy will always love you, okay? Even if she's not here…Mummy will always love you," Harry told them, feeling his own eyes start to water again. "Don't ever forget that."

* * *

"Harry."

Hermione stood up when she saw him enter the sitting room. He knew he probably looked like hell, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

He gazed around the room. Rosie was on the floor playing with Lily, and Hugo was currently asleep on the sofa.

"Where's Ron?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

"He went home not too long ago," Hermione said. "He needed some time alone."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"Did it go okay, Harry?" she asked hesitantly.

He shrugged. "As well as it can go when you tell your children that their mother is dead."

Hermione shifted in her seat and looked away from him.

"Anyway, they're both sleeping now. They worked up quite a bit of energy."

He sat on the floor and placed Lily in his lap, closing his eyes and resting his head against the sofa behind him.

"You should go to sleep as well. It's been a long a day," Hermione suggested. "I can get Lily ready for bed."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine. I very much doubt I'll be able to sleep anyway," he said. "Go home, Hermione. Ron needs you."

"Harry—"

"Just go home, okay?" he repeated. "I'll be fine."

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but was cut off by the sound of Lily's soft whimpers. She was fidgeting in his lap, one fist in her mouth, the other hitting him lightly against the chest.

"I just changed her not too long ago," Hermione said, kneeling down next to them. "She's probably hungry. I'll go prepare a bottle."

Harry watched her leave, a sudden feeling of dread washing over him as Lily continued crying.

"Hermione…" he said barely above a whisper.

She'd just returned to the sitting room holding the bottle in her hands, and taking Lily from him.

"Hermione, she…she doesn't…"

"Come on, Lily," Hermione cooed. "I know your little tummy is rumbling. How about some nice yummy milk?"

But Lily's cries only got louder as she aggressively turned her away and fought against Hermione's hold.

"Let me try," Harry said, getting up quickly and taking her in his arms.

He ran a hand soothingly against her back and kissed her hair, attempting to calm her down as he brought the bottle back up to her lips. "Come on, love…just try for Daddy. Please…I know you're hungry, I know you are," he said.

"Harry, what's wrong with her?" Hermione asked.

"She only breastfeeds," he burst out. "Ginny's been trying to get her to switch to a bottle, but…"

He let out groan of frustration.

"What am I going to do…God, what am going to do…she's going to starve. I-I can't feed her," Harry said suddenly feeling desperate. "Hermione, I can't feed her!"

Lily was practically wailing now, letting out little gasps between each breath that tore at Harry's heart like a knife.

"All right, Harry, just—just calm down," Hermione said.

"I CAN'T CALM DOWN!" he shouted suddenly. "My daughter is hungry and I can't feed her! What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

The noise level of the room had grown so loud that it had apparently woken up the other members of the house. Molly and Arthur had rushed down the stairs, followed by James and Al who were both looking rather confused. Hugo had quickly awoken and was now crying, as well.

"Let—let me try breastfeeding her," Hermione suggested. "We can figure out the rest later, but right now she needs to eat."

"Daddy, what's wrong with Lily?" Al asked, tugging on his sleeve.

"Harry,  _give_  her to me."

"Harry, dear…there's nothing you can do for her right now," Molly said gently.

"Daddy, what's wrong with Lily!" Al repeated.

"She wants Mummy, stupid!" James yelled, pushing him to the floor.

" _James!"_

"Harry!"

"All right!"

Harry passed Lily to Hermione and then rushed over to the boys who were currently tackling each other on the floor.

"What's the matter?" he demanded, pulling James off.

"James said Mummy left because of me," Al said, fresh tears streaming down his face.

"That is  _not_  true," Harry said adamantly. "I told you she didn't want to leave. It's nobody's fault, do you understand?"

"LIAR!" Al yelled at his brother. "YOU'RE A LIAR!"

Harry could have sworn he saw the frames on the mantelpiece shake a bit, but he shook his head and focused back on Al. His face was red and the veins in his neck were protruding as he stared at James in anger.

"Alby," Harry said, concerned over the boy's current state. "Just calm down, okay? Tell me what's wrong."

"He wants Mummy cause he's a baby like Lily!" James said loudly.

"JAMES!"

But before he could reprimand him further, the entire floor shook violently underneath them. Various vases, picture frames, and books came crashing down. The windows in the sitting room and kitchen burst open with shards of glass flying in all directions.

Harry immediately covered James, Al, and Rosie from the onslaught, a few of the pieces cutting painfully across his back. He could hear Hermione let out a small cry behind him, and looked around to make sure she was okay.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said breathlessly, standing back up when the floor finally stopped shaking. She quickly pulled out her wand and banished all the glass back to the windows with several  _reparos._

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Arthur asked, trying to calm a frightened Hugo in his arms.

Harry released the kids from his grasp and looked down at Al curiously. With a horrifying shock, however, he suddenly realised that the boy was out cold his arms.

"Al?" he said, shaking him. "Albus?"

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, running over to them.

"He—he's not opening his eyes," Harry said, his heart beating so fast that he thought he might throw up. "Come on, Al, don't do this to me!"

Hermione quickly checked for a pulse. "He's just unconscious," she said with relief.

" _Just_ unconscious?" Harry repeated. "Forgive me, Hermione, if I'm not dancing with joy right now."

She pointed her wand at Al and muttered a soft  _Rennervate,_ but nothing seemed to happen.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll come to any second," she assured him. "This has to be linked to whatever just happened. You don't think…Harry, he didn't do all this, did he?"

"What, accidental magic?" Arthur said in surprise. "Surely it couldn't have been his doing. Perhaps breaking a vase or shattering one window, but shaking the entire foundations of a house?"

"Arthur's right, Harry," Molly said. "I've never seen accidental magic on a scale like this before."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "He was making the frames above the fireplace shake while he was yelling. I saw it happen," he said.

"Okay, well…we know it's powered by emotion. Fear, anger…" Hermione said, her eyebrows creased in concentration. "Maybe he was just extremely emotional?"

"Daddy, what's wrong with Al?" James asked in small voice, his eyes wide with fear.

Harry exhaled heavily. "I don't know, James," he said. "I don't know."

He wasn't sure how much more he could handle. It was just one thing after another. He felt like he was losing his mind. It was too much. It was all too much. He buried his head into Al's neck and pleaded with him softly to wake up.

Five agonising minutes later, he finally felt some movement in his arms.

"Alby," he whispered in relief.

The boy groaned a bit as he blinked his eyes slowly and shifted his head around. "Daddy?"

"I'm here," Harry said. "I'm here, kiddo. I love you so much."

He hugged Al close and kissed him all over his cheeks and forehead and hair, feeling so overwhelmed with emotion that he felt it would burst out of his chest.

The real shock came, however, when James threw his arms around his brother's shoulders and squeezed him so tightly that he nearly cried out in protest.

"Easy, Jamie," Harry said with a small smile. "Hugs shouldn't hurt. They're supposed to be nice."

"Sorry," James told his brother, patting him on the head like a pet.

After eventually getting the boys and Lily into bed, Harry returned downstairs to say goodbye to Hermione.

"Look, er…I really do appreciate everything you've done, Hermione," he told her seriously. "I'm sorry for—for…"

"For grieving? You have nothing to apologise for," she said. "I'll always be there for you, Harry. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded wordlessly, and she pulled him in for a hug before walking over to the grate and flooing away with Rose and Hugo.

Harry collapsed onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands.

This was only day one. The thought alone made him want to vomit. None of it even felt real. He kept expecting her to walk into the room and give him a good kick to shake him out of his wallowing.

But then he'd remember. All those random thoughts that kept running through his mind, making him mad with grief. Like how he'd never hear her voice again. He'd never hear her beautiful laugh. Never see her smile. Never look into her eyes and see her looking back. Her warm, beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

Harry's entire body shuddered with his silent despair.

He vaguely heard someone walk into the room and take a seat next to him. Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he didn't have to look up to know who they belonged to. Only one person had the ability to make him feel like a small child. Only one person could rub his back so soothingly and whisper such comforting words in his ear.

"I can't do this," Harry choked out desperately. "I can't go through this life alone."

Molly brushed a hand gently through his hair and he revelled in her motherly touch.

"Harry…my dear, sweet Harry," she said, tears running down her cheeks as she held his face in her hands. "You will never be alone."


	19. Chapter 19

Abby gazed at the window, her head resting on her arms and her eyes feeling heavy as they followed a single drop of rain rolling down the glass. So slow, so soothing. She could almost fall asleep right here just staring at it.

"Hey!" a voice hissed, breaking through the fog of her mind. "Snap out of it!"

She blinked a few times and turned her head to see Maggie. "What?"

"You're practically taking a nap over here. There's a customer at table five. Get to work," she said in exasperation.

"Oh…sorry," Abby said, standing up and slapping herself lightly to get rid of any lingering drowsiness. "Late night, you know?"

"Doing what, exactly?" Maggie said, raising one brow in interest.

"Little of this, little of that," Abby said slyly, before walking over to the table up front.

In truth, she hadn't done much of anything last night besides watch telly, but she wasn't about to admit that aloud.

"Hello," she greeted the woman at the table brightly. "Are you ready to order, then?"

The woman glanced up from the menu, letting her eyes rest on Abby's face for a few seconds in a strange, almost calculating manner.

"Er…do you need more time?" she asked with a hesitant smile.

"No, no, I'm fine," the woman said suddenly, snapping her head back down to peruse the menu. "Sorry…what would you suggest?"

"Well, depends on what you're in the mood for. Something hot, something cold, something sweet. What flavour would you say croissants were? They're not salty…but they're not exactly sweet, either," she mused, folding her arms and biting her lip in concentration.

The woman smiled at her in amusement. "I think I'll just have some tea."

"Oh," Abby said, dropping her arms back down to her sides. "Well, tea it is, then."

She could distinctly feel the woman's intense gaze following her as she walked to the back counter. It was a bit strange, but she decided not to pay it any mind. After all, she'd been guilty of doing much stranger things, herself.

"Here you are," Abby announced, placing the cup down on the table. "Enjoy!"

"Oh, excuse me," the woman called quickly, just as Abby was about to turn away.

"Yes?"

"Abigail, is it?" she asked.

"Er…"

"It's on your name tag," she pointed out.

"Oh, right," Abby laughed, staring down at it. "I forget that's there sometimes. I usually just go by 'Hey, you.'"

The woman stared at her for a moment in that same calculating manner, before offering a hand. "I'm Hermione."

Abby was thrown off a bit by the sudden gesture, but she quickly reassembled her features into a smile as she shook the woman's hand with enthusiasm. "It's lovely to meet you."

Hermione smiled back at her, and she was surprised by the amount of warmth in it. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly, shaking her head a bit. "I know I'm being rather forward."

"It's okay," Abby insisted. "I love being forward."

She let out a small laugh and glanced down at her cup, staring intently at it as if there was something written there in its brown depths. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Hermione looked up at her. "Do you like working here? At this… _specific_  café?"

Abby was confused for a moment, but then realisation suddenly dawned on her, and she took a seat in front of the woman and smiled brightly. "Thinking of applying?" she asked knowingly.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly shut it again. "Yeah…"

"Well, it's got its perks. It's really only mad in the mornings, then it dies down a bit the rest of the day. I can put in a good word for you, if you want?" Abby offered. "Then again…that may just do you more harm than good. My boss isn't really too fond of me."

"Oh? Why's that?" Hermione said. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. Sorry…"

Abby brushed her concern aside. "I don't mind," she assured her. "I—well, I sort of have this problem. My boss likes to call it 'diarrhoea of the mouth'."

Hermione, who was in the process of drinking her tea, quickly put the cup back down with a slight grimace.

"Oh, sorry," Abby said. "It just means I talk a lot."

"Yes, er…I know."

"Anyway, I still get everything done. But she's convinced I'm wasting time," Abby shrugged. "I just work really fast."

Hermione offered her a sympathetic look. "I hope I'm not wasting your time now?"

"Oh no, you're fine," Abby insisted, even as the bell signalled someone entering the shop.

"You sure?" Hermione asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Er…yeah, I should probably go," she said sheepishly as she stood up. "But if you have any other questions, feel free to ask. I'd be happy to help."

"Thank you, that's very kind," Hermione said. "It was lovely to meet you."

"You as well. Stop by again sometime, yeah?"

Hermione gave her one last warm smile. "Yeah…maybe I will."

* * *

Harry slouched back in his chair, staring out into space as he artfully twirled his wand between his fingers. The large stack of reports lay forgotten on his desk amidst the other piles of paper strewn about, and he was doing his very best to ignore them.

A knock on the door broke through his mental haze, and he sat up quickly in his seat, grabbing a report off the pile and feigning a look of concentration as he called the person in.

"Oh, it's just you," he said, slouching back against his chair and tossing it aside.

"Lovely to see you, as well," Hermione said. "Are you busy?"

"Terribly."

"Well, I need to talk to you about something," she said, taking a seat across from him and clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

"Why can't you ever just come in here for a nice chat?" he asked warily, noting the look of severe concentration on her face.

"Who said I wasn't?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"All right, I'm not," she said in a huff. "The thing is…well—look, please don't be angry with me. It's just…I've done something."

"Okay..."

She stared down at her fingers for a moment, before looking back up at him with a hesitant expression. "I went to see Abby today," she said.

" _What?"_ he said, sitting up in his chair.

Hermione looked at him guiltily. "I know, I know, I'm sorry!" she said. "It's just…you said you'd let me meet her, but it's been weeks now. And I know that's no excuse, but…I was only curious."

"And she doesn't even know who I am," she added quickly. "I told her my name, but nothing more."

He exhaled loudly, feeling unbelievably annoyed with her at the moment. He'd wanted everyone to meet Abby on his own terms. How and when that was going to happen, he wasn't exactly certain, but surely that was his decision to make?

"Harry, I'm sorry," Hermione repeated.

"Whatever, it's fine," he said.

"No, it's not. You're angry."

"I said I'm  _fine._ "

A tense silence filled the air for a moment, before she finally spoke up again.

"Can we at least talk about it?" she said carefully. "Don't you want to know what I think of her?"

"Not really."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Can't we just be mature about this?"

"Mature? Oh, that's rich," he said with a laugh. "You go behind my back and now you want to talk about being mature?"

"Oh, what was I supposed to do?" she exclaimed suddenly, standing up to pace back and forth in front of his desk. "I just wanted to meet her. This—this phantom woman who apparently got through all your defences. Can you really blame me for being curious?"

"You could have at least asked," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"I  _have_. Twice," she said, pausing in her step to look at him. "But you keep pushing it off like it's not meant to happen yet. Like you're waiting for something. What are you waiting for, Harry?"

He stared down into his hands, feeling his whole posture sag slightly in defeat. "I don't know," he said quietly.

Hermione sat back down and examined him in that critical way of hers that made him want to disappear. "You're making this a big deal and it doesn't have to be," she said. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

A small frown appeared on her face. "Well maybe that's something you need to figure out," she said.

Harry had to force himself not to respond with a biting retort. He knew she was just trying to help, but he was finding it difficult to be grateful at the moment.

"In the meantime, I think you should invite her over for dinner so Ron and I can meet her," she said in more business-like fashion.

"Er…no, I-I don't think that's a good idea," he said quickly.

"And why's that? Give me one good reason."

Her gaze bored into his, and he had to shift his eyes away. "There's a lot."

"Then why can't you name one?" she said.

"She's a muggle," he blurted out, knowing it was a shite excuse even before the look of exasperation shone on Hermione's face.

"Invite her over," she said with a tone of finality, before getting up and heading toward the door.

"Wait," Harry said.

She turned back around.

"I know I'm going to regret this, but…what did you think of her?"

Sure enough, Hermione smiled so brightly that he wondered if her face would split in half. "I thought she was lovely."

"You don't have to lie."

"Oh shut it, you," she said, finally dropping the earth-shattering smile. "I really think she is, in her own way. There's something about her…she's sort of innocent."

Harry glanced down, playing with the button on his cuff. "Got a mouth on her, though," he said.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, that she does. But it doesn't seem to bother you, does it?" she said, studying him carefully.

He shrugged. "It used to. At least, I thought it did. I don't know."

"Well, I was a nightmare before we became friends," Hermione reminded him. "Not that Abby's anything like me, of course, but..."

"You weren't that bad," he said, looking up at her.

Hermione smiled. "That's sweet, Harry," she said, patting his hand. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. The important thing is that you and her are friends now. No trolls necessary."

He let out a small chuckle which caused Hermione to beam at him.

Before he could respond, however, the door to his office swung open, and they both snapped their heads up to see who their intruder was.

Harry sighed.

"I really do hate to break up Heroes Anonymous," Davis said, placing a hand against her heart. "But we've got a meeting in five, Potter."

"I'm aware of the time, thanks," he said.

Davis raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it's clear that you've prepared," she said, waving a hand to indicate the mess on his desk.

Hermione cleared her throat softly. "Right, I'll just be going now. Don't forget what I told you," she said quietly, giving him a pointed look. She then stood up and smiled politely at the other woman. "Tracey."

"Granger," Davis replied, watching her leave the room.

"She's a Weasley, now," Harry commented as he leaned back in his chair.

"You've mistaken me for someone who cares," Davis said. "Now don't be late."

Harry scowled at her retreating form before getting up and grabbing his things. When he entered the conference room, he found Ellsworth and Davis already seated, along with Adams, the junior auror who still looked like he was worried he'd be kicked out of the room at any second.

"All right, I assigned you some tasks to complete last week," Harry said, opening up the file as he settled into his chair. "You can go ahead and share your findings."

Adams cleared his throat loudly and sat up even straighter in his chair, causing Davis to eye him with distaste. "After extensive research, I was able to identify the unknown sample in the envelope as a valerian seed," he said, pulling out a Herbology textbook and opening to the marked page. "The shape, texture, and colour all match up. It has both magical and non-magical properties and is used in numerous potions and medicines, but…Auror Davis can elaborate on that further."

"Great, thank you," Harry replied, scribbling a few things down in his notes.

"Well, I think we all know what valerian is used for, so let's not beat around the bush," Davis said, glancing around at them. "Draught of Living Death. The root is used for that potion, not the seed. That's probably why none of us recognised it."

"What else?" Ellsworth said. "Don't assume. You're cleverer than that."

"I haven't assumed anything," she assured him, pulling out a piece of parchment. "Here's a list of all the other potions that uses it as an ingredient, whether it's the seed, root, sprig, or extract. They fall into three categories: sleep, memory, and anxiety-relieving potions."

She made three copies of the parchment and passed it around to each of them, before looking back up at Harry. "I really don't know what we're supposed to do with all this information. It just raises more questions than we had before," she said. "I mean, were the wife and son poisoned? We have a clear cause of death written here."

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he glanced down at the long list with a sigh. "What do we know?" he asked to no one in particular. "Come on, what do we know?"

"That we're looking into a closed case because of some  _clues_  from an anonymous tip?" Davis said. "Merchant's in prison. He pled guilty."

"But someone seems to think he isn't," Harry said. "Someone who's refusing to bring themselves forward."

"Potter," Davis said, looking at him seriously. "How do we know this person isn't just trying to muck us about? It's been three years. If they had any information, why would they wait this long to share it?"

"Guilty conscience? I don't know," he said. "Look, you were all for re-opening the case last week. What's changed?"

She glanced down at the parchment in front of her with a frown. "I just don't think we're getting anywhere with this. I thought…I thought the seeds would mean something. Now, it just seems like someone's leading us on."

Harry exhaled slowly and turned to Ellsworth. "Your call. You were adamant about a reinvestigation," he told him. "Why?"

The man stared intensely at a spot on the wall, before shaking his head. "Because I remember his face," he said quietly, picking up one of the old photographs in the file. "I remember it like it were yesterday. He didn't have the face of a killer. Just of a man who…lost too much."

He met Harry's eyes for a brief moment before looking away.

"That's all well and good," Davis cut in. "But we can't base this sort of thing on feelings. The fact of the matter is, we have a tip, but no evidence."

"Yes, but…" Adams piped up suddenly.

They all turned to stare at him.

"Go on," Harry urged.

The young man cleared his throat. "Er…what about the unexplained amount of magical residue on the envelopes? You said that could mean they've been tampered with. Surely that's worth looking into…yes?"

"He's got a point," Ellsworth agreed. "There's obviously something funny going on here."

Harry rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Study the case," he said. "Look for inconsistencies, anomalies, just…go through everything. If you see any red flags, then mark them down and we can discuss them together."

"And you're sure we're not wasting our time?" Davis asked. "We have a lot more pressing matters that we could be focusing on."

Harry gave her a hard look. "If it means getting an innocent man out of prison, then I'll waste as much time as I want," he said a bit heatedly. "Just do what you're told."

She stared back at him with one eyebrow raised. "All right…no need to bite my head off."

"Sorry," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "I think we're done, here. You're dismissed."

He picked up his things and was about to head out, but then paused briefly in the doorway. "Oh, and...I know I don't have to tell you, but don't let this go public. Not yet, anyway. We still need more evidence, and I don't fancy the press getting involved."

They all nodded in understanding, and then he left, feeling like the room had suddenly become much too stuffy to remain in any longer.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath before opening the shop door.

He stood somewhat awkwardly at the front of the room as he let his eyes search for her. She was near the back, leaning against the counter talking animatedly with one of her workmates. The other girl spotted him instantly, and nudged Abby in the side with a sly look on her face that made Harry clench his jaw in reflex. He put on a tight smile as Abby turned around and noticed him.

"Hi," she greeted, walking up to him as he took a seat. "Long time, no see, eh?"

"It's only been a couple of days," he said.

"Oh yeah, I know," she said quickly, brushing it off. "Just…you know, a figure of speech."

He noticed that she was wearing the bracelet he'd given her the last time they'd met, and he couldn't help but smile. "It looks good on you," he said, gesturing towards it.

Abby glanced down at it and smiled as well. "Thanks," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I showed it to Ollie—you remember Ollie? From the music shop? Well, anyway, he says you've got great taste."

"I'm honoured," Harry said.

She took a seat across from him and smiled again. "How are you?" she asked. "Did you want me to get you anything? You're here later than usual."

"No, I'm fine," he said, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. "I actually just wanted to talk to you about something,"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, er…well," he started, clasping his hands tightly and staring at them. "I'm supposed to invite you over for dinner."

His words were met with silence, so he shifted his eyes up slowly to meet hers. There was a blank look in them as if she hadn't quite registered what he'd said.

"I should probably explain, shouldn't I?"

Abby nodded.

"Right so, I sort of told a friend of mine about you a while back, and…now she really wants to meet you," Harry said, trying to gauge her reaction.

"A friend of yours?" Abby asked, with a small look of wonder on her face.

Harry nodded. "Well, she's sort of more than a friend. She's also my sister-in-law. But we've known each other since we were kids."

"Wow…" Abby said a bit breathlessly.

He looked at her in amusement. "What is it?"

There was small smile on her face as she stared into his eyes with that same expression of wonder. "Harry, I didn't…I didn't know you had a friend," she said softly.

"Well, that's a bit rude."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, I wasn't trying to make fun of you," she said quickly. "Honestly, I wasn't!"

He let out small a laugh at the worried look on her face. "Relax," he said. "I was only joking."

"Oh…right. Yeah, I knew that," she said, waving him off. "Anyway, your friend wants to meet me?"

Harry shifted a bit in his seat. "Er…she sort of already has."

"Sorry?"

"She stopped by here this morning. Without my consent, may I just add," he said, still feeling a bit annoyed. "Her name's Hermione."

Recognition flashed in Abby's eyes, and her mouth opened a bit in what Harry assumed was shock.

"Blimey," she breathed. "Well, that would explain a lot of things."

"Like what, exactly?" Harry asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Well…like how she was being so nice. Compared to most other customers, anyway. I mean, she introduced herself and everything. But I could have sworn there was something a bit dodgy about her stare…"

Harry let out a sniff of amusement. "Yeah, she's not very subtle, Hermione," he said. "Sorry, by the way. Like I said, I had nothing to do with it."

Abby shrugged. "I don't mind," she said, smiling at him good-naturedly. "And I don't think you should either. She obviously cares about you."

Harry looked away without responding. He wasn't exactly sure how to feel about the situation. Everything just seemed to be moving too fast, like he no longer had control. He knew it was rubbish. He'd been friends with Abby for months now, and he didn't exactly blame Hermione for growing impatient. But still…what would happen when Ron and Hermione met her? Would the rest of the Weasleys want to meet her, as well? Would Andromeda and Teddy?

_Bloody hell…Teddy._

He wasn't sure how the boy would react, but Harry wasn't expecting it to go smoothly. Nothing in his life ever went smoothly, after all.

He shut his eyes for a moment, pushing the thought out of his mind and then opened them back up to see Abby looking at him with concern.

"Did you not want her to meet me?" she asked, no trace of disappointment on her face. It just seemed like an honest question.

"It's not that," Harry muttered, with a shake of his head.

"Then what is it?" she said. "You're upset about something."

He ran a hand through his hair and turned to face the window. It was the same one he'd stared at for over a year now. Day after day, just watching people and cars pass by, oblivious to everything in his world, oblivious to him.

"It's like I have two lives."

His words were met with silence, but he knew Abby heard him. He could feel her gaze on the back of his head.

"One here…with you," he continued. "And then another one. A real one."

"And…you don't want me to be a part of that one?" Abby said quietly.

Again, it just sounded as if she were genuinely curious. There was no trace of disappointment. No resentment. And it was a bit maddening, to be honest. It was like she was hiding behind her own feelings in order to spare his. He had more than enough people in his life doing that.

"Tell me how you feel," he said, turning around to bore his eyes into hers.

"What?"

" _Tell me_  how you feel," he repeated. "Are you upset, are you disappointed, are you angry? Tell me."

"No, I…"

"You what? You don't feel anything?" he asked. "Cause I'm dead terrified. Okay? I don't—I don't know what this is. I don't make friends. I've had the same ones since I was eleven. And then you barge your way into my life, and it's okay for a while. Because this here, this isn't real. This is my pretend world.  _You're_  pretend."

Abby's mouth opened slightly, but she didn't say anything. He could see a look of hurt in her eyes, though. And it was that look that pushed him to continue.

"But I don't know if I want you to be," he admitted so softly that he wasn't sure if she heard him. "Not anymore."

Abby reached out for his hand almost hesitantly, before looking up at his face. "I don't want to be, either. "

Harry swallowed thickly and then nodded. "Then come over for dinner."

* * *

Abby crossed her arms as she stared at her closet determinedly.

She stood in that same position for one long minute before falling backwards onto her bed in defeat.

"I'm doomed."

She had nothing to wear. Nothing. Not one thing. And it wasn't even an exaggeration.

_Okay, it's a slight exaggeration._

Abby groaned and covered her face with her hands. She didn't want to have to do this, but there seemed to be no other choice.

Standing back up, she walked out into the corridor and knocked lightly on the door across from hers.

"Yeah?" a muffled voice answered.

"Can I come in?" Abby asked.

There was a brief pause before the door opened, revealing the curious face of her flatmate. "What can I do you for?" she asked, leaning casually against the door frame.

Abby exhaled softly. "I need your help."

Clara grinned widely, before moving out of the way to let her in. "So…blokes, fashion, or sex?"

"W-what?" Abby asked, feeling her face get hot.

"Well, it's got to be one of those, innit?" Clara said with an almost bored expression. "Or more than one…or all three. Please tell me it's not all three, that might just take all night."

Abby shook her head swiftly as she settled herself on the desk chair. "No, er…I just need something to wear."

Clara raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Where you going, then?"

"Well…I have this friend," she said, not meeting the girl's eyes. "You've seen him before."

"You mean the fitty who picked you up that one time?"

Abby could feel her face getting hot again. "His name is Harry," she mumbled.

"So what, you going out tonight? Need a nice, little outfit to show him you want to be more than friends?" Clara asked.

"No, nothing like that," Abby said adamantly. "He invited me over for dinner…with his family…and his friends."

"Family? What like his parents?"

Abby shook her head slowly.

"Who, then?" Clara asked, clearly confused.

"Um…well…" Abby said, her voice going slightly high-pitched. "His children."

Clara stared at her for a moment. "Sorry, what?"

Abby looked up at her. "He's got three kids."

"Bloody hell…" Clara said, clasping her hands to her mouth and staring at Abby with wide eyes. "You've got to be kidding me. You've got to be bloody well kidding. This is a joke, right? Like a proper joke?"

Abby shook her head once more.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

"Would you stop saying that!" Abby exclaimed. "I'm nervous enough as it is."

"How  _old_ is he?"

"He's only twenty-nine," she said a bit defensively. "His wife passed away three years ago."

"Well, shit," Clara remarked. "That's depressing."

Abby gave her an exasperated look. "Anyway, you can see why it's a bit of a sticky situation."

"Well, what do you want my help for?" she asked. "I've dated a lot of guys, but no single, widowed fathers. Bloody hell…"

"I just need something to wear," Abby repeated. "I'm not even interested in dating him. He's just a friend."

Clara snorted loudly. "Oh, don't even lie. You are well into him," she said. "Why else would you stick around for this long? Cause you love the kiddies so much and fancy being a mum?"

Abby glared at her. "Look, will you help me or not? I didn't come here for your crass talk."

"Crass?" she laughed. "Right, whatever…what are looking for exactly?"

Abby crumpled back against the seat and let out a defeated sigh. "I dunno. Something…modest, but…nice?"

"It's cute that you think I own anything like that."

"You must have something," she urged. "A nice blouse? Any colour would work."

Clara looked her up and down. "What bottoms are you wearing?"

"Black trousers."

"And do they actually fit you?" she asked, with one eyebrow raised. "Or do you need a belt just to hold them up?'

"They fit fine," Abby said, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the girl's scrutiny. "They're my good pair."

Clara spent about ten minutes going through her closet, before re-emerging with an armful of shirts that she tossed into Abby's lap. "Go on, then. Try them on and take your pick."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, just go," she said, shooing her out.

The whole process took about ten more minutes, before Abby finally settled on a fancy blue shirt. She was cutting it a bit close on time now as she hurriedly combed through her hair, slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and walked out, coming face to face with Clara.

"Not bad," the girl remarked, looking her up and down. "You actually look kind of hot."

"What?"

"Are you wearing make-up?" Clara smirked.

"A bit…" Abby said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why, is it obvious?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "No, I'm sure  _Harry_ won't be able to tell at all."

Abby didn't even bother trying to tell her that it wasn't for him. After all, it sort of was. But it was also to make a good impression in front of his friends. Because she had a feeling that he valued their opinions rather highly, and if she showed up as a tired, old hag, they might just give her the boot.

These thoughts flooded her mind throughout the entire ride to Harry's house. Her stomach was just one big ball of nerves. It had been since he invited her over for dinner three days ago. And every time she thought about it since that moment, horrible scenarios would play out in her imagination over and over again. Like saying really stupid and awkward things to his friends who, for some reason, were overly posh. Or having his children throw things at her, despite the fact that she'd already met them and was fairly certain they weren't the throwing type.

Or even worse, that he wanted her to stay pretend.

_Pretend._

That word had been like a knife to her heart. It hurt so much more than it probably should have. Because Harry was anything but pretend. He was the most real thing to ever happen to her.

Abby shook her head to clear it of all these thoughts. The bus had arrived at her stop, and she walked out the door and headed down the street towards Harry's house.

"Just relax," she whispered to herself. "It's only Harry."

"And a bunch of other people…" she argued aloud.

"But you've already met most of them," she assured herself. "And they were perfectly nice."

"Relax…just relax."

She took a deep breath in as she opened the gate and walked up the path to the front door. She knocked lightly and not two seconds later, it opened to reveal the smiling face of Hermione.

"Hello!" Hermione said brightly, moving aside to let her in.

Abby could hear a bunch of high-pitched voices emanating from somewhere inside, and she smiled softly at the sound.

"Sorry about the racket," Hermione said, leading her through the corridor. "Ron and I brought the kids, as well. I hope you don't mind?"

"No, of course not," Abby said quickly. "You have children?"

"Two," she replied. "Rose's seven and Hugo's four."

"Same age as Al and Lily, then?"

"That's right. But…only half of that arrangement was actually planned," she said with grin. "Harry and Ginny preferred to call Al a 'gift'. Ron preferred the term oversight."

Abby let out a small laugh while simultaneously marvelling at the woman's openness. She wasn't quite sure what she'd been expecting, but after experiencing Harry's closed-off nature for so long, this was very much a breath of fresh air.

"I think Harry's still upstairs getting changed, but Ron and the kids are in the sitting room if you'd like to join them?"

"Will you be coming, too?" Abby asked without thinking.

She mentally smacked herself for sounding so childish.

"Yes," Hermione said in amusement. "I'll be right behind you."

Abby nodded and walked through the doorway, feeling the ball of nerves squeeze tightly in her stomach once more. "Hello," she greeted a bit hesitantly as she entered.

The level of noise in the room quickly died down as six pairs of eyes stared up at her.

"Abby!" a voice squeaked.

A little blur of red hair ran up and grabbed her around the legs, hugging her tightly.

She smiled warmly, feeling a bit less nervous all of a sudden as she bent down to hug the girl back. "It's so good to see you again, Lily."

"You, too!" she replied sweetly.

A throat cleared from behind her, and she looked up to see a tall red-haired man staring at her with a bit of an awkward expression.

"Er…Ron Weasley," he said, sticking his hand out. "Hermione's husband. Harry's best friend."

Abby could see Hermione shaking her head at him from behind. "Nice to meet you. Harry's told me…nothing about you," she said, shaking his hand. "But he hasn't really told me much about anything, so…"

She pretended to cough in order to prevent any more nonsense form tumbling out.

"And this is Rose," Hermione said loudly, pushing her daughter forward to say hi. "And Hugo."

Abby shook hands with both children while briefly wondering if this was the largest number of red-heads she'd ever seen in one room.

"James, Al, aren't you going to say hi?" Hermione asked, giving both boys a pointed look.

"Do we have to?" James said.

"If she's got that look on her face, mate, you best do it," Ron told him.

James sighed dramatically, before getting up and loudly stomping his way over to her. Each step made Abby want to cringe, but she kept the pleasant smile on her face as best as she could.

"Hullo."

"Hi, James," she said. "It's lovely to see you again."

"Whatever," he said, shaking her hand for about a second before abruptly letting go and returning to his spot by the fireplace.

Al had followed his brother, albeit much more quietly, and shook her hand, as well. "Thank you for the book," he mumbled, turning back around before she could even respond.

Hermione then clapped her hands loudly. "Right! Ron, why don't you go see what's keeping Harry? Dinner is waiting, after all," she said a bit too brightly as she all but shoved her husband out the door. "Abby, you can follow me into the kitchen."

She did as she was told, not wanting to get on the woman's bad side. She had the distinct impression that Hermione was not one to be crossed, and Abby didn't really feel like testing that theory out.

As they both sat down at the kitchen table, Hermione clasped her hands and leaned forward with a serious look on her face.

"I owe you an apology."

Her mouth opened a bit in surprise. "What, why?"

"Well, I basically lied to you the other day, didn't I?" she said. "I should have been open with you, but instead I was trying to be all secretive and analyse you from afar."

Abby shifted in her seat. "Analyse…that's a bit of a strong word."

"Please don't think that was some sort of test," Hermione said quickly. "Harry can be friends with whoever he wants to be. I just wanted to meet you…see what you were like."

"Well, you don't have to apologise for that," she assured her. "But…can I ask why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why you wanted to meet me so badly?"

Hermione stared at her for moment with her brows slightly furrowed. "You know Harry pretty well by now, don't you?"

"Er…well, I think so," she said, confused at the sudden change in conversation. "But…there's a lot I don't—"

"You know that he's not very open," Hermione said. "He doesn't talk much…he rarely smiles…"

Abby regarded her carefully, noting a sudden weariness in her words and posture that hadn't been there before.

"But the thing is," she continued, a wistful look in her eyes. "He wasn't always like this. He was happier, livelier, wasn't so quick to argue about  _everything_."

Hermione looked down at her hands and let out a soft sigh. "I mean he's never really had it easy, there's no doubt about that. But he was always so resilient," she said, her forehead creased in concentration. "Not this time, though. Not after Ginny. Maybe he just couldn't handle anymore."

Abby swallowed thickly, letting the words sink in. She'd known that Harry had suffered numerous losses in his life, but the way Hermione spoke about him made her think that perhaps there was much more to his story than he was letting on. And she sincerely hoped it couldn't be any worse than all the scenarios her imagination was currently conjuring up.

"But then he told me about you," Hermione said, giving her a small smile. "He talks to you, hangs out with you, has fun with you. Abby…I never thought in my wildest dreams that he would do something for  _him_ again. And I've got you to thank for that."

Abby looked away from her, suddenly overcome with an embarrassing amount of emotion. "So…that's why you wanted to meet me."

Hermione nodded, and then placed a hand atop hers, staring at her with a serious expression.

"But I need you to understand something. Harry's my best friend. And I don't want to see him get hurt again," she said, her eyes burning with intensity. "You know about his situation, you've met his kids. They come before anything."

"I know," Abby said, her voice coming out scratchy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I know. I would never..."

Hermione studied her for one long moment before nodding. "Good," she said. "Then can I ask you something? You don't have to answer."

Abby didn't get a chance to respond, however, because at that moment, they heard footsteps coming down the stairs and heading in their direction.

"Later," Hermione told her quickly just as Harry entered the kitchen.

The sight of him standing in the doorway made Abby's insides suddenly grow very warm.

"Hey, sorry I took so long," he said, giving her an apologetic look. "Lily got glue in my hair, so I had to shower."

Abby used all her mental strength to not let unbidden images of him in the shower invade her mind.

"Glue?" Hermione exclaimed. "Did you manage to get it out?"

"I should bloody well hope so. I used like fifty cleaning sp…supplies."

She noticed Harry glance at Hermione.

"Anyway, can you check?" he asked, leaning his head down towards her.

"I'm not going through that nest," Hermione said, pushing him away. "Have Abby check."

"What?" he said, his voice slightly higher than usual.

Abby could feel the back of her neck burning as he turned to look at her.

"I helped you cook dinner  _and_ clean the house. I think I'm done being your personal slave for the day," Hermione said with her arms crossed.

Harry's eyes were still on Abby as he straightened back up. "It's fine. You don't have to," he told her.

"Oh, um…I don't mind, really," she shrugged in as nonchalant a manner as she could manage.

Inside, her mind was practically screaming for the chance to touch his hair. It had been a rather recent fantasy of hers that she couldn't seem to get rid of. It just always looked so soft and silky and perfect for running one's fingers through…

"Er…okay," he said, walking towards her.

Abby caught a glimpse of Hermione's face behind him, and she could have sworn she saw the woman trying to hold back a smile.

She contemplated that for about two seconds before Harry leaned his head down and suddenly all thoughts of Hermione were dispelled from her mind. A strong whiff of his scent filled the air around her, and she had to resist the urge to close her eyes and inhale deeper. Reaching out a hand, she brushed some of the thick black locks aside to start her inspection.

However, Abby quickly found that she was spending more time enjoying the feel of his hair between her fingers than she was doing any actual inspecting. She couldn't help that it was just as soft and silky as she imagined.

"Do you see anything?" Harry asked.

_Bugger!_

"Er…just hold on," she said. "You've got a lot of hair, you know."

After a couple more seconds of not finding anything, she ran her hand through one last time, revelling in the feel of it as much as she could before stepping away.

"All done," she announced, feeling unreasonably saddened that she would never get to do that again.

"No glue?" he said, turning around to face her.

"Nope. Just some lice."

"Cute."

Abby felt her pulse quicken, but quickly scolded herself for being so pathetic.

"Great! Now that that's over with…" Hermione said, getting up from her seat.

Abby snapped her head up in surprise. She'd nearly forgotten the woman was in the room. Which was rather embarrassing considering she'd basically just felt up Harry's hair right in front of her.

Hermione looked as if she was about to say something, but was thankfully cut off as a new voice sounded from the corridor.

"Dad," James said, drawing out the word as he rested his head against the door frame. "Is it time to eat, yet? I'm starved."

Harry looked over at him. "Yeah, just about. We're going to be in the dining room."

"Why?"

"Because we have a guest over," he said as if it were obvious.

Abby felt very much like sinking into a hole in the floor as James turned to stare at her with those judging eyes of his.

"Whatever," he said, disappearing back in the direction he came from.

"Erm…don't mind him," Hermione told her quietly. "It just takes him a little while to warm up to people. Right, Harry?"

He didn't say anything, but just nodded stiffly as he turned away from them and walked out of the kitchen.

Abby watched him go, wondering if he suddenly regretted inviting her over.

She sighed and pushed the thought from her mind as she followed Hermione into the dining room. The kids and Hermione's husband were already seated, and she noticed James immediately move down a chair to take the one closest to his father as he sat down at the head of the table.

Abby pretended not to notice as she took the seat between Lily and Rose. She didn't want to give the impression that she was hurt by his actions, or worse, annoyed. Because in all honesty, she just felt a bit sad that he apparently thought of her as some sort of threat. That was the last thing she ever wanted to be.

"Er…go ahead and eat," Harry announced once everyone was seated.

Hermione clicked her tongue. "You can try and sound a bit more courteous," she told him in soft tones that carried throughout the room.

Abby let out a small laugh that she quickly hid behind her hand as Hermione turned to offer her some chicken legs.

"Lils, give me your plate," Harry said.

The little girl shook her head. "I want Abby to do it!"

The fork in her hand accidentally slipped and fell onto the table with a soft clink. "Wait, what?" Abby asked, looking around.

"Fix my chicken," Lily said, looking up at her eagerly.

"Um…"

"Cut it into smaller pieces," Harry explained. "You don't have to. I'll do it."

"No, no! It's fine. I'd be happy to," she insisted, motioning for him to sit back down.

She wasn't sure exactly how small Lily wanted her chicken, but she sincerely hoped that the pieces she was cutting were just the right size to fit safely into a four-year-old mouth.

_Oh God, what if they're not…I might kill her…_

"Does that look about right?" she whispered into Lily's ear, hoping no one would notice.

The little girl nodded. "Can I have some tapatoes, too?"

"Er…what are those?" she asked, glancing at the table.

Lily giggled as if she had just told an amusing joke. "Tapatoes, silly!"

"She means  _po_ tatoes," Rose spoke up from her other side.

Abby glanced at the girl and gave her an appreciative smile. "Oh, right. Thanks."

Rose nodded and then leaned in closer to stare curiously up at her. "Are you and Uncle Harry boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Her fork slipped from her fingers for the second time that evening, making an even louder noise as it clattered against her very expensive-looking plate. She could feel everyone's stares on her, but she pointedly ignored them.

"No, no we're not," she told her in a quiet, but firm voice. "Just friends. Nothing more. Only friends."

Rose merely shrugged before resuming her conversation with Al across the table.

Abby exhaled softly and shook her head, trying to get her heart rate to slow back down. It wasn't the question itself that freaked her out so much, but the people around the table who could potentially overhear it. James already hated her enough for just being his dad's friend. She didn't even want to imagine how he would react to her being something more.

_Not that I'll ever have to worry about that…_

Abby tried to ignore that painful thought as she stared down at her plate and pushed the peas aside with her fork. She really hated peas. But she didn't have the heart to tell Hermione that.

The woman in question had very graciously attempted to make conversation with her all throughout dinner, but Abby soon found that talking to her was a bit overwhelming. She just knew so much about…everything, it seemed. And she wasn't even smug about it.

Abby glanced surreptitiously around the table to see if anyone else was listening to Hermione's thoughts on Britain's education system today because she, for one, was definitely not prepared to offer any rebuttals. She caught Harry's eye and he gave her a small grin, as if letting her know that he understood her plight.

And then he did something that he'd never done before.

He winked at her.

It was funny how something as simple as that could make her so stupidly happy.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry trudged heavily up the stairs, feeling like he was about to collapse at any moment. It had been a long day filled with work and cooking and cleaning, and it all left him more exhausted than he cared to admit. But he was content in the fact that it hadn't been completely worthless. Nor as horrifying as he'd imagined.

It was actually sort of nice having Abby there with Ron and Hermione. He'd been worried that she wouldn't fit somehow, that she'd look strange sitting there amongst his family. But she hadn't. She'd looked…fine. Normal, even. Rather nervous, but normal.

He found himself imagining what it would be like for her to meet the rest of the Weasleys, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought. It was a mad house at the Burrow when everyone was there, and Abby would probably fit in just fine.

Harry's thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he reached the landing and gazed upon the door to the boys' room. A sudden rush of guilt swept over him knowing James was in there alone. He'd escaped up the stairs the second everyone had left and shut the door behind him.

He'd been rather standoffish and rude throughout the evening, but Harry just didn't have the heart to reprimand him for it. How could he when James was so obviously upset?

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and let out a tired sigh. Mustering up the last dregs of his energy, he reached out to knock lightly on the door before entering.

James was lying on his bed, staring at a small flying car that was whizzing around above him.

"Hey," Harry said, walking over to sit by his side. "Why aren't you playing with Al and Lily?"

He shrugged as his eyes continued to follow the car. "Don't feel like it."

Harry nodded and glanced around the room in silence. It probably wasn't the best idea to talk about Abby right now. It was getting late and he really needed more time to think things through.

"Well…I was sort of thinking," Harry said, shifting his gaze back to the boy. "Maybe on Saturday you'd want to stay home with me? Al and Lily could go over to the Burrow a bit earlier, and we could spend the rest of the day together."

James looked up at him for the first time. "Just the two of us?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. We can do anything you like."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "But why?"

The question hurt Harry's heart, but he tried his best not to let it show. "Do I need a reason? I just miss you, is all."

James gave him a strange look before shaking his head and staring back up at his flying car. "You're so weird, Dad."

Harry let out a small chuckle. "Thanks, mate," he said. "So what do you say, then? Are you in?"

"Okay," he said with a shrug.

Harry smiled and leaned over to ruffle his hair. "Good. Now, go get changed into your pyjamas. I'll be back in a bit."

He stood up to leave, and then headed down the corridor to Lily's room where he could hear voices emanating loudly from within. As soon as he knocked on the door, the noise abruptly died off and both Al and Lily looked up at him with dread in their eyes.

"Time for bed," Harry announced.

As expected, there was an instant outcry of protest.

"No!"

"Just fifteen more minutes," Al said. "Please, Dad, we're—"

"I gave you enough time already," Harry said. "Lily should have been asleep an hour ago. Now, let's go, the both of you. Up."

"But—!"

"No buts."

"But we have to save Hogsmeade first," Al whined.

Harry was about to respond when a loud roar from a toy dragon cut him off. He looked down to see that it was currently destroying a cardboard building with its tail.

"Norbert's killing all the people!" Lily exclaimed.

"And you expect us to just go to sleep?" Al said, staring at him in disbelief.

Harry rubbed at his temple wearily, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm not going to say it again," he said. "I want you changed and in bed within the next ten minutes. You can save Hogsmeade tomorrow."

Al exhaled loudly, standing up and walking past him with a scowl on his face. Lily, on the other hand, remained rooted to the spot, letting out a noise of discontent as she crossed her arms.

"I'm not tired."

"Oh? Well, you should have said so," Harry exclaimed. "Go ahead and stay up as late as you want."

A look of hope appeared on her face. "Really?"

"No."

"But you said—"

"I was kidding. Now come on, into your pyjamas," he said, kneeling down on the floor as he summoned a bright yellow pair and let one of the sleeves tap her repeatedly on the head.

Lily let out an angry growl and pushed him hard in the shoulder. "I don't wanna go to sleep!" she said. "I said I'm not tir—!"

"Hey!" Harry yelled, grabbing her fist as she went in for another punch. "What did I say about hitting? We do  _not_ hit."

"But you're being mean!"

"I don't care," he said. "There's no excuse to hit someone, so don't even think about doing it again. Now get changed or I'll do it for you."

She stared at him for a moment before taking in several quick breaths and bursting into tears.

"Lily," he said, trying to hold onto his last shred of patience. "Why are you crying?"

"Because," she said, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes, "I w-want a n-new dad."

Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes as he picked up the pyjamas from where she threw them behind him. "Maybe we can buy one tomorrow," he said, lifting up her arms so he could remove her shirt.

"I wanna buy one  _now_!"

She held onto his shoulder as he helped her step out of her purple trousers. "All the shops are closed," he told her. "Everyone's asleep."

"Everyone's stupid!"

"Can't argue with you there," he said with a shrug.

It was after many more sniffles and pouts that Harry finally managed to get Lily changed and in bed. Her eyes were drooping heavily by now, and he leaned down to place a small kiss on her forehead.

"Night, flower," he said, before muttering a soft  _nox_ and closing the door behind him.

He wished James and Al goodnight after that, and then made his way into his own room where he immediately collapsed onto the bed, revelling in its warmth and comfort. He was out the second his head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Morning!" Abby called, glancing around the shop.

She headed over to the piano in the corner, taking her usual seat as she pulled a banana out of her bag.

"Don't even think about touching anything before you've washed your hands."

Abby looked up from her banana and smiled. "Want some?" she said, offering him half.

"Nah," Ollie said, walking over to the counter. "I had a nice, hearty breakfast with the wife."

"Lucky you. I didn't have the time," Abby said with a frown. "Or a wife."

Ollie raised an eyebrow at her. "You didn't have time to eat, but you had time to stop by?"

"It's called multitasking."

"Right…well, anyway, it's good you're here. I got something for you," he said, before bending down to retrieve whatever it was from behind the counter.

Abby craned her neck as he stood back up with a piece of paper in his hands.

"You know that theatre down on Norwood Hill?" he said. "Well, they've got an opening for a pianist. Thought you might be interested."

A small flutter erupted in her chest at his words, but she quickly tamped it down. "Er…can I have a look?" she said, walking over to him.

He handed her the paper and she let her eyes scan it over, her excitement growing the further she went down. But then just like that, all hope evaporated in an instant.

"Two weeks?" she said, glancing up at him. "The audition. It's in two weeks."

A look of regret passed over his face. "I know. I'm sorry, Abby. If I'd heard about it earlier…"

She brushed it aside, putting on a smile as she handed the paper back to him. "It's no big deal. Maybe next time."

"Well, you might as well try," he said, giving her a look of exasperation. "What have you got to lose, eh?"

Abby shook her head. "I can't possibly prepare a piece in that time," she said. "And even if I could, I'm working seven days a week and I haven't got a piano. There's no chance, Ollie."

He leaned down on his elbows and stared at her with a piercing look. "When are you going to stop making excuses for yourself?"

She felt a sudden rush of indignation at his words. "I'm not making—!"

"Yes, you bloody well are," he said. "And every time it's the same thing. You turn down all these opportunities because you're too afraid to take the risk. You keep doing that, love, and you'll be stuck at the same old job for the rest of your life. Believe me…I know."

Abby shifted her eyes away from him and let out a tired sigh, feeling utterly hopeless for the first time in a long time.

"What am I supposed to do?" she said quietly. "I can't just quit working."

"Who says you got to quit?"

She gave him a look of frustration. "How else would I have the time?" she said. "You shut up shop every night before I get off work. What am I supposed to practise on, my toy keyboard?"

She was surprised to find a smile forming on his face, and for a second, she thought he might be mocking her.

"That's why I got something else for you," he said, taking her hand and placing a key on it.

"Wait…what—?"

"It's a key."

"Yeah, I noticed. But, for what?"

He chuckled that deep chuckle of his and shook his head at her. "For the shop."

Her heartbeat instantly sped up, and she stared at him in disbelief. "No, but—but I couldn't."

"Yes, you could," he said. "And you will. You can come and practise whenever you want, now."

A number of emotions seemed to erupt inside of her all at once. She wanted to laugh and cry and dance and shout with happiness. But she did none of those things. No, she just jumped over the counter and engulfed the man in a bone-crushing hug that was so aggressive it caused him to stumble backwards. Which was saying something considering he was nearly twice her size.

"Thank you," she told him fervently. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He carefully extracted himself from her arms and looked down at her with a serious expression. "Two things," he said. "First, do  _not_ forget to lock up every night. I'm trusting you, now."

She nodded emphatically. "Of course. I'll double and triple check," she assured him. "What's the second thing?"

He glanced down at the guitar that he always kept behind the counter. "Just don't be like me."

"How do you mean?" she said.

He looked back up and smiled softly at her. "Go places."

* * *

"And be good. And don't bother Nana and Grandad. And don't stay up too late. And don't do anything fun—"

"Okay, I don't sound like that," Harry said, shoving James to the side as he kneeled down to hug Al and Lily. "But yeah, basically what he said."

Al rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna have fun without us?" he asked.

"Nah, it'll be really dull," Harry said.

"What are gonna do?"

"None of your business," James cut in.

Harry gave him a look before turning back to Al. "You can stay home with me next week if you want, yeah? But I'm sure you'll have much more fun here, anyway."

Al narrowed his eyes a bit suspiciously. "Fine. Let's go, Lily," he said, grabbing her hand as they walked out of the sitting room.

"Love you," Harry called.

"Love you, too, Daddy!" Lily said, turning around to wave at him.

"Love you, too," Al said, with much less enthusiasm.

Harry watched them disappear into the kitchen where Molly was preparing lunch. He felt bad for essentially kicking them out of the house, but he really just wanted to spend some time alone with James.

"He'll get over it," James said, as if reading his mind.

Harry let out a sniff of amusement as he stood back up. "Let's hope so," he said, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Anyway, where do you want to go first?"

"We can go anywhere?" he asked.

"Yup. Well…within reason."

"What's not within reason?" James said, looking up at him curiously.

Harry shifted his eyes around the room. "Good question…"

"Can we go to the park?"

"Er…sure, if that's what you want?"

James nodded. "I want to go to the park."

They exited the Burrow and walked to the very edge of the garden before James suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten his football at home.

"Wait! I think there's one in the shed," he exclaimed. "Accio it for me."

"Yes, master," Harry said, summoning the football and holding it under his arm as they apparated away.

They arrived amidst a small thicket of trees that was well-hidden from wandering eyes. Harry always liked this particular park because of the small forested areas that separated the wide expanse of open land. It made it easier to find a secluded spot even during crowded summer days such as this one.

"This here'll be my goal," James called, placing two large rocks on the ground and then running up to do the same on his side. "And here's yours."

Harry squinted up at the blaring midday sun. It wasn't terribly hot out, but he knew he would be sweating buckets by the time they were finished. Whenever that was. James had a never-ending supply of energy, so they were sure to be outside for many hours to come.

"All right, quick disclaimer," Harry said, holding his hands up. "I'm rubbish."

"What's a disclaimer?" James asked, deftly juggling the football with his legs.

"Never mind. Just know that I'm terrible."

James snickered. "Well, I already knew  _that,"_ he said. "Anyway, here's how we're gonna play. You've got to megs the other player before you can shoot—"

"You've got to what, now?"

James threw his head back and groaned. "Dad, how many times do we have to explain this to you? Meg, as in nutmeg! You know, where you kick the ball between the other player's legs?" he said, demonstrating for him.

Harry nodded in understanding. "Right, I knew that."

"Of course you did," James said. "Anyway, we'll play to five."

"I'll count off, shall I?" Harry said, as they both positioned themselves on opposite sides of the ball.

"Go on," James said, an intense look suddenly forming on his face.

Harry took a deep breath in. "Three, two…two and half…two and—"

"DAD."

"GO!" he yelled, kicking the ball straight through the boy's legs and carrying on towards the goal.

"Oi!" James said, half whining and half laughing as he chased after him. "You're a cheat!"

Harry grinned as he quickly shot the ball hard towards the goal. He was secretly hoping to guarantee himself at least one point so that he wouldn't get completely ribbed later, but to his surprise, James appeared out of nowhere and jumped up to block it away with one hand.

"WHAT A SAVE! What…a… _save_  by the young and amazing James Potter!" James shouted, letting out a whoop of joy and doing a little dance.

"Well…" Harry said, crossing his arms. "At least he's modest."

"Let's go!" James said, paying him no mind. "We got to kick-off again."

They raced back to the centre of their make-shift pitch and resumed the game with fervour. The summer heat, which had seemed so mild before, was now beating down against Harry's neck and causing his shirt to stick to him. He wanted to suggest a water break, but he figured there was no point as the game was bound to end soon. James was only one goal away from winning.

Harry was very much surprised at the boy's skill, especially when it came to goalkeeping. It was as if he knew exactly where the ball would go even before it left Harry's feet. And he was quick, too. It all just seemed to come to him so naturally. And there was a part of Harry, a very small part buried deep within him that couldn't help but wonder…

But he immediately shook his head of the thought. It plagued him enough already and there was no point thinking about it now. He would think about it later. He always thought about it later.

He looked over at James who had just made yet another save and gave him small smile. "You're good at that, you know," he said.

"What?"

"Being goalkeeper."

"Oh…yeah, I s'pose," he said with a shrug.

Harry stared at him with one eyebrow raised. "You don't sound too happy about it."

James shrugged again and shifted his eyes away from him. "It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter if I'm good," James said, sounding a bit annoyed. "It's not like I'll be able to play."

"Oh…right," Harry said, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up.

He exhaled heavily and took a seat on the grass, gesturing for James to sit next to him. The boy didn't look too keen on having a conversation, but he ambled his way over, nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, gazing at the ground. "I know it's not fair. And I wish I could do something about it, but I can't. You know I can't."

"But it's not like I'll cheat!" James said.

"I know you wouldn't," he said, looking at him seriously. "But some wizards might. That's why they made the law in the first place. Too many people using magic to cheat during matches."

James wrapped his arms around his legs and glared straight ahead. "I don't even know magic yet. How can I use it?" he mumbled.

Harry glanced over at him sadly before leaning back on the ground so he could stare up at the sky.

He knew the words that could bring James comfort. The words that would make his face light up with happiness. It would be so easy just to say them. So frustratingly easy.

But he was a coward.

Harry shut his eyes for a moment, letting his thoughts swirl wildly in his mind. One thought, in particular, seemed louder than all the rest. And he could hear it in her voice, as clear as if she were standing right next to him.

_If there's something that brings you joy, that's yours and yours alone, then you shouldn't let that go._

Why did he remember those words? Of all the nonsense she spewed on him day in and day out, why did he have to remember those words in particular? They were the words that he specifically wanted to forget.

But he couldn't forget them. Especially now as he lay there staring at the open sky, knowing that the one thing that could make his son happy, was the one thing that terrified him most in the world.

Was it really worth the risk?

_Everyone needs something to be passionate about._

He groaned aloud and covered his face with his hands. Couldn't she just shut up? He had enough of an internal battle waging within his mind, already.

_Bloody hell…_

"I've gone mad," he breathed.

"What?" James said.

Harry exhaled loudly, silencing all the thoughts in his head before coming to a final decision. One that made his heart clench with fear. But he was just so tired of being a coward.

He sat back up and looked the boy straight in the eyes.

"You can't play football."

James paused in the action of pulling out blades of grass. "Yeah…I know."

"But that's okay," Harry continued. "See, wizards…they've got something else. Something so much better."

"Dad…"

"Have you ever thought about playing Quidditch?" Harry said, feeling his heart beat rapidly in his chest. "Because you'd make a damn good keeper."

James just stared at him open-mouthed for what seemed an eternity before he finally spoke.

"You said a bad word."

Harry cracked a small smile before bursting out in laughter.

"Do you really mean it?" James asked, looking up at him in awe. "I can play Quidditch?"

_No, no, no, no, no._

"Yeah…yeah, you can play," Harry said. "I mean, not yet, obviously…"

"When I go to Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded again.

"You mean it?" James asked again, his face shining with pure happiness. "You really, really mean it?"

"I really do, yeah."

James smiled widely before jumping up to wrap his arms tightly around Harry's neck. "I love you, Dad," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I love youso much!"

Harry felt his nerves relax a bit as he returned the embrace. A part of him still felt as though he were making a terrible mistake, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction that came from seeing James so happy. Besides, he would have plenty of time to get used to the idea. Three more years. Surely he would be ready in three more years?

"Why'd you change your mind?" James asked, letting go to stare up at him curiously.

"Er…well, a lot of reasons."

"Like?"

"Well, I've sort of been thinking it about it for a while, now," he admitted. "Ever since I saw you on that broom a couple of weeks ago."

James' head drooped down a bit as if in shame.

"Hey," Harry said, pushing it gently back up. "Let's just forget about that, all right?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"Anyway, like I said, I've been thinking about it," Harry continued. "And then today, well, you surprised me. You've got a real talent for keeping, you know that?"

A smile appeared on James' face that he seemed to be trying to hold back.

"There we go," Harry grinned. "You didn't like it when I told you earlier."

"Only because—"

"I know," he assured him. "So, that's why I thought if you can't play football…then who am I to stop you from playing Quidditch?"

James seemed to consider this for a moment. "But don't you—I mean…I thought you hated Quidditch, Dad," he said.

Harry noted the hesitation in the boy's eyes, and he gave him a small smile before lying back down on the grass and gazing up at the sky. James followed his lead, resting his head on Harry's stomach.

"I don't hate it," Harry told him. "I don't think I could."

James shifted his head to the side to look at him.

"Believe me, I tried," he said with a humourless chuckle. "But there's always that part of me that wishes I could just grab a broom and fly away. Just to feel it again."

"Maybe that makes me a hypocrite," Harry said. "You know what a hypocrite is, don't you?"

"Not really."

"It's someone who tells you not to do something when they're doing it themselves."

"But…you haven't flown on a broom," James said. "You only thought about it. Right?"

Harry smiled to himself. "Yeah, I suppose you've got a point," he said. "You're just too clever for me."

"I know."

He ruffled up the boy's hair causing him to squirm away.

"Dad," he said, sitting up with a serious look on his face. "Are you gonna teach me how to fly?"

Harry didn't answer right away.

"Dad?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Of course I will. I don't trust anyone else."

James' eyes lit up almost instantly.

"But," Harry continued, sitting up so they were eye-level. "It's going to take me some time to get around to it."

"How much time?"

"I don't know. Just…some," he said. "I just need you to be patient with me. James…this is probably the hardest thing I'll ever have to do. I'm sorry…"

The boy looked a bit put out, but he nodded nonetheless.

"But I promise I won't make you wait too long," Harry said, looking him in the eye. "You're going to learn how to fly, and you're going to love it. You're going to love it  _so_  much, James."

A goofy smile appeared on the boy's face, and he let out a small giggle. And then another.

"What are you laughing at, you weirdo?"

"Nothing," James shrugged. "I'm just happy."

Harry chuckled, feeling a small bit of tension release inside of him. "I'm glad," he said, brushing a thumb across his cheek. "Now come on, lazy. We still got to finish that game. I need to make my dramatic comeback."

James snorted loudly. "Yeah, you do that, Dad."

Unsurprisingly, Harry never did manage it, but it was not for lack of trying. By the time they finished playing three more games, he felt as if every muscle in his body was protesting. They'd called it a day at that point and returned home to get cleaned up. Harry had grass stains all over his shirt and trousers, a woefully sunburnt nose, and hair that looked like it had seen better days. But it was nothing a shower and a bit of magic couldn't fix.

The rest of the day was spent meeting James' various demands which thankfully were rather mild. They ate lunch, got ice cream, went to the cinema, had dinner, and returned home. It was nothing too thrilling, but they were both completely drained by the end of it.

"Did you have fun today?" Harry asked, as James slipped into bed wearing his treasured Arsenal pyjamas.

"Mhm."

"Good," Harry said with a smile. "Me too."

"So, how come you wanted to spend the day with me?" James asked.

"It's just like I said," Harry said, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I miss you."

"But what does that  _mean_? I see you every day, Dad."

Harry laughed. "I know, but…when was the last time we played football together? Or just had dinner, me and you? It's different when I get to be alone with you," he said. "And the same goes for Al and Lily."

James seemed to think about this for a moment.

"Don't you like it when it's just the two of us?" Harry asked.

"Yeah."

Harry brushed the boy's fringe away as he stared down at him warmly. "Well, we can do this whenever you like," he said. "I know that sometimes it seems like I'm really busy. But I'd drop it all in a second for you. Believe me, James. Nothing and  _no one_ is more important to me than you."

James shifted his glance away and nodded.

"And look, I…I didn't want to talk about this tonight, but I need you to understand," Harry said. "I might make some new friends, I might meet people who I become really close to. But I will never love anybody more than I love you, Al, and Lily. There's just no competition. It's not possible."

James sat up against his pillow and hugged his legs close to his body. "You mean Abby, right?" he said quietly.

"I mean anybody. But yeah…I brought it up because of her," Harry answered. "Do you not like her, James?"

"I don't know her," he mumbled in response.

"But it's not like you to act mean towards people you don't know, is it?" Harry said in a gentle manner so as not to push him away.

James hugged his legs tighter, a frown appearing on his face.

"You know, she really wants to get to know you," he said. "All three of you."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "She's just funny like that."

"But what's the point?" James exclaimed suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"What's the point of her?" he said even louder. "We don't need her, Dad.  _We're fine without her!"_

The words hit him like a ton of bricks and caused his shoulders to drop down in defeat. "There is no point to her, James," he said, his voice low. "I just wanted a friend. That's all."

Harry stared down at his hands for a moment before shaking his head and standing up. He pulled the covers over the boy's body and kissed him on the head. "Goodnight, I love you."

He walked towards the door and was just about to turn the lights off when a small voice made him stop in his tracks.

"Dad."

Harry stood rooted to the spot, staring at the open doorway. "What is it, James?" he said quietly. "I'm tired."

The boy didn't respond right away, and Harry was just about to tell him to go to sleep when he finally spoke up again.

"Remember you said teaching me to fly is hard?" James said, in that same small voice that made him sound so much younger.

"Yeah…" Harry replied.

"This is hard for me, too."

Harry felt something catch in his chest.

"Oh, Jamie…" he whispered, rushing back to the bed to hold the boy in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"No…no, it's okay," he said, hugging him tighter. "It's okay."

He pulled back so he could look the boy in the eyes.

"You don't have to do anything," Harry assured him. "If this is too hard for you, then I'll stop. I'll stop being friends with her. I'll stop talking to her. I'll—"

"I don't want you to stop!" James cried, slamming his fist down on the bed. "I don't want you to be sad because of me!"

Harry's mouth opened a bit in surprise. "I…I'm not."

"But you will be!"

"James," Harry said. "I don't understand…what do you want?"

He looked down at his lap and shrugged.

Harry exhaled softly and ran a hand through his hair. "Look," he said. "You said before that you don't know Abby, right?"

James nodded.

"Well, then…maybe you should try and get to know her," he said. "If it's still hard for you after that, then I won't ask you to try again."

"But—"

"And I'll be completely fine with it. I meant what I said earlier. You're more important to me than anything or anyone," Harry said adamantly. "So…what do you say? Does that sound like a deal?"

James looked up at him, his brown eyes shining. "Deal."

* * *

Abby tapped her fingers against the counter, imagining the feel of the piano keys and the sound of the melody as she stood there waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

Her shift ended at noon today, so she would have more than enough time to practise to her heart's content. The thought made her practically bubble over with excitement. A whole day of practising! It might be slow torture for some people, but to her it was an absolute treat.

The sound of the bell tinkling put an abrupt halt to her finger tapping, and she turned around to see who had entered. Her heart immediately leapt with delight when she spotted Harry.

As he made his way over to the table by the door, however, she was surprised, and more than a bit nervous, to see James trail in after him, as well. Abby couldn't deny that she was slightly intimidated by the boy. He just seemed to resent her very existence. And even though she pretended not to notice, it always made her sad to think about.

Nevertheless, she put a bright smile on and walked over to them, hoping that maybe things might be able to change with time.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, bowing her head respectfully.

"Hey," Harry said. "You busy?"

"My break just started…now," she said, taking a seat across from them.

Harry cleared his throat. "Good. Well, er…I'll just come out with it, then. James, here, doesn't feel he knows you very well," he said, placing an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Isn't that right, James?"

The boy was staring down at the table, but he nodded his head.

"So, that's why we thought it would be a good idea for you two to talk a bit," Harry continued. "Would that be all right with you?"

It took a moment for Abby to realise that he was addressing her, and she nearly choked on her own saliva trying to get her answer out quick enough. "Yeah! Yes, of course…completely all right."

"Great," Harry said with a smile. "Then, James has something to say first."

The boy picked up his head and stared off to the side as he mumbled something.

"A little softer, mate. We don't want the whole place to hear," Harry said, crossing his arms.

James rolled his eyes. "I  _said…_ I'm sorry for being rude to you."

Before she could respond, Harry leaned over and whispered something into the boy's ear, causing him to sigh dramatically and then shift his eyes over to meet hers. "Abby…I'm sorry for being rude to you when you came over."

"Oh, er, it's okay," she said, not wanting him to get in trouble.

"No, it's not," Harry said.

"It's not?"

"No," he repeated. "But do you accept his apology?"

"Oh, right. Yeah…yeah, I do," Abby nodded, giving the boy a warm smile.

"Wonderful," Harry said, leaning back in his chair. "Now that we got that out of the way…"

There was a bit of an awkward silence as no one said anything for a minute.

"Erm…so…" Abby said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's your favourite animal?"

James looked at her like she was a bit touched in the head. "Who cares?"

"Just answer the question," Harry mumbled, nudging him in the arm.

"A dragon," James said matter-of-factly.

"A dragon?"

"Mhm."

"Wow," Abby breathed, her hands dropping into her lap. "That's a really good answer..."

"What?" James exclaimed. "But dragons aren't  _real_."

He put air quotes around the word 'real' which didn't quite make sense in context. But she thought it better not to mention that.

"Well, that's all right," she said with a shrug. "Who says your favourite animal has to be real? I might just rethink mine now, actually. But anyway…dragons, eh? Aren't they a bit scary?"

"Yeah. And ginormous, too. They breathe fire right in your face," he said in an ominous voice. "My Uncle Charlie works with them, and he says—"

"Uncle Charlie says a lot of things, doesn't he?" Harry said, cutting him off. "Good man, Charlie. Slightly whimsical, but always has his heart in the right place."

James looked up at him with a smirk. "Are you saying he's a nutter?"

Harry gave him a thin smile in return before turning back to face her. "Carry on."

Abby felt more than a little confused, but refrained from asking any questions. It seemed a bit of a touchy subject.

"Well, let's see…" she said, thinking of possible topics that James might enjoy. "Oh! I heard you like football."

"Where'd you hear that from?"

"It was in the news," Harry said. "They had this whole segment about you."

Abby had to stifle a laugh as James glared up at him.

"You're not funny, Dad."

"Er, which team do you support?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation back into pleasant territory.

James crossed his arms. "Arsenal. You?"

"Well, I don't really follow football too much," she admitted. "But…if I had to pick, I'd go with Crystal Palace."

" _Why?_ "

Abby shrugged. "They were the local team when I was growing up. I even went to a few matches."

"Lucky you," he said, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand.

"You've never been to a match?"

"Oh, here we go…" Harry said with a heavy sigh.

"No. Even though I've been asking to go for two whole years," James said, holding up two fingers for emphasis.

"I've been busy," Harry muttered.

"Dylan's mum even said she would take me and Dylan to see Arsenal play. But  _he_ said no," James said, jabbing a thumb in his father's direction.

"You'd just gotten into trouble at school because of that whole gum thing. I wasn't about to let you go gallivanting off to watch a football match," Harry said in annoyance. "I said I'd take you next season, so I'll take you next season."

"Whatever."

"Don't 'whatever' me," Harry hissed.

James crossed his arms and shifted in his seat so that he was facing away from both of them.

"Who wants some dessert?" Abby said suddenly, standing up with a bright smile on her face.

They both stared up at her.

"Er…sure," Harry said quietly.

She left and came back quickly, carrying two plates in her hand. "One treacle tart for Harry," she said, setting it down in front of him. "And one chocolate cake for James."

"I made sure it was extra big," she whispered to the boy, giving him a wink.

"Thanks," he mumbled with a tiny smile that made her heart soar.

Abby spent the remainder of her break asking James a variety questions that he begrudgingly answered with some encouragement from Harry. He still looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but sitting at a table with her, but she prided herself in managing to get a few more smiles and even one small giggle out of him.

He was rather adorable when he wasn't glaring at her. Quick-witted and cheeky, too. Abby almost wished that they could get on good terms just so they could team up and bother Harry together.

 _One can dream_ , she thought with an internal sigh as she walked over to the back counter to grab Harry's change.

"Abby."

She snapped her head up to see the man in question leaning over the counter.

"What is it?" she asked, walking over to him.

"I just wanted to, you know…say sorry. About everything. I know he's not the easiest—"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Harry, don't be thick."

He seemed slightly taken-aback and stood up a little straighter. "What?"

"He's just a kid," she said. "A clever, intimidating kid, but a kid, nonetheless."

Harry smiled in amusement. "Intimidating?"

"Well, yeah. He just has this…look," she said. "I can't really describe it. I think it's in the Potter genes."

"You think I'm intimidating, as well?"

"No, Harry, I think you're very approachable."

He let out a sniff of amusement and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Good to know," he said. "Anyway…I should be going. I promised James I'd buy him a toy if he agreed to come with me."

She laughed. "You bribed him?"

"Yeah, great parenting skills, I know," he said. "I've got a bunch mums and dads lining up to take notes."

Abby gave him a small smile before looking down at her fingers. "I'm sure you could teach a few people a thing or two."

Before he could respond, she turned around to grab his change from the till. "Say hi to Al and Lily for me," she said, handing it over. "Maybe you can bring them by again."

Harry thanked her and nodded. "Yeah, maybe," he said, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "See you later, then?"

"See ya."

He was half-way to the table when Abby suddenly called out to him.

"Oh, I almost forgot!"

"What?" he said, pausing in his step before heading back over to her.

Abby threw an apologetic glance at James who was looking very impatient now as he stood by the door.

"Erm, well," she said, feeling both nervous and excited. "There's this audition at a theatre nearby for piano. I only just found out about it yesterday from Ollie."

Harry's face immediately split into a wide grin that made Abby's heart flutter. "Are you going to do it?" he asked with enthusiasm.

"Yeah," she said a little breathlessly. "I only have two weeks to prepare which is definitely not ideal, but Ollie said it was worth a shot. He even gave me a key to the shop so I can go in and practise on one of the pianos after work."

"That's fantastic," Harry said, his green eyes filled with warmth. "Two weeks, eh? So what, next Sunday?"

She nodded, suddenly feeling nervous all over again.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed," he said.

She let out a small chuckle. "Thanks," she said. "I just really wanted to tell someone, and…well, you were the first person I thought of."

Abby felt a bit embarrassed by that admission, but she didn't regret it. It was the truth, after all.

"Well, I'm glad you did," he said.

"Me, too," she said. "But anyway…you should probably go now. James is glaring daggers at your back."

"Right," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Well, good luck, yeah? Let me know how things are going."

"Should I call you every night?" she asked with a grin.

"That won't be necessary."

Abby laughed and watched him walk back towards James, putting and arm around the boy's shoulders as they exited the shop. She waved at them one last time through the window before they disappeared down the street.

* * *

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

Harry rolled over on his side and stuck his arm out blindly for the mobile, not even bothering to check who was calling before he answered.

"Seriously?" he said, laying his head back down on the pillow. "I thought you were joking."

"Well, I haven't called  _every_ night," Abby's voice sounded on the other end. "Sorry…did I wake you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, shoot. Sorry…again," she said guiltily. "I didn't think you'd be asleep yet. It's only ten."

"Yeah, well, when you have a four-year-old who wakes up at the crack of dawn, you're not left with much of a choice," he said.

"Oh, right…sor—"

"If you say sorry one more time, I'm hanging up the phone."

There was silence for a moment.

"Okay," Harry said, letting out a sigh. "Now, what is it? Feeling nervous again?"

"More than you would believe," she said with a small groan. "Two days, Harry. It's in two days. Less than forty-eight hours!"

Harry sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're going to be fine," he said in his most soothing voice. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"I do so terrible that everyone laughs at me and I get excommunicated from the world of theatre."

"All right…" he said. "Well, we know that's not going to happen."

"How do we know?"

"Because that's ridiculous," he said. "The worst thing that can happen is you don't get the job, right?"

"Right…"

"And what happens if you don't get it?"

"I'll be sad?"

"Besides that."

He could hear her exhaling softly on the other end. "I'll just try again another time."

"Exactly," Harry said. "And that's not the end of the world, is it?"

"Not really," she said.

There was another brief pause before Harry spoke up.

"You're going to be fine," he said once again. "Now, can I go back to sleep?"

She let out a small laugh. "Yeah, sorry. I promise I won't call you tomorrow."

"Right…we'll see," he said, lying back down on the bed. "Goodnight, Abby."

"Nighty night, Harry," she said before hanging up the phone.

He tossed the mobile onto the bedside table, shaking his head as he rolled over and fell right back to sleep.

The next day, Harry dropped the kids off at the Burrow a bit earlier than usual, hoping to catch Abby at work so he could offer her some last minute words of encouragement. He wasn't sure when or why he suddenly became so invested in her well-being, but he figured she was close enough of a friend by now for him to care. He probably would have done the same for Ron or Hermione.

With that thought in mind, he opened the shop door and took a seat at his usual table. The café was a bit busy at this time of day, so he sat back in his chair, watching Abby bustle around as she took orders from her customers and her boss.

As Harry observed her closer, though, he was surprised by how utterly spent she looked. There were dark circles underneath her eyes and her hair was tied up messily with strands of it falling into her face.

"Waters!" a voice suddenly hissed.

Harry watched as Abby's boss took her to the side and started gesturing wildly, a severe look on her already unpleasant face. In response to whatever was being said, Abby simply dropped her head down and nodded before turning back around.

It was at that point that she finally noticed him there. Her face seemed to instantly light up, and she walked over to him while pulling out her notepad.

"What can I get you, sir?" Abby said loudly, her eyes darting around the room.

"I think she knows that you know me," Harry said.

"Well here, take a menu," she said, handing one over. "God, this has been a terrible day. Well…more of a terrible week."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you look pretty crap."

"Thanks."

"What did your boss want?" he said. "She looked like she was about to eat you."

Abby exhaled loudly. "I'm just all over the place today. I keep messing up orders and forgetting things. I've been up late practising every night this week, and I think it's finally catching up with me. Crab-apple is about one step away from giving me the sack."

He gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic look. "Just hang in there one more day," he said, patting her a bit awkwardly on the arm. "You can do it."

"Thanks," she said, looking like she was trying to hold back a laugh. "Anyway, I should get back to work before I'm spotted. Don't go anywhere yet, though."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Harry spent most of his time after that staring out the window, but he glanced back at Abby every now and then just to make sure no new disasters had struck. She wasn't lying when she said she was having a terrible day. In the short time he'd been there, she'd already managed to mess up yet another order which thankfully went unnoticed by her boss.

At the moment, she was walking towards the kitchen, looking slightly unbalanced with two trays of dirty dishes in her arms. A man was walking directly behind her, staring down at his mobile and not paying any attention to his surroundings in the slightest.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake…" Harry muttered, slipping his wand from his pocket and placing a quick sticking charm on the dishes just as the man collided straight into her back.

Abby let out an audible gasp as she stumbled forward, the trays wobbling dangerously, but remaining otherwise intact.

"Sorry, sorry!" the man exclaimed.

"No, it's—it's fine," she said, looking down with wide eyes as if not daring to believe her luck. "No harm done..."

Harry smirked to himself, discreetly lifting the charm before tucking his wand back into his pocket. He could just picture the look of horror on Hermione's face if she found out what he'd done. Not that she ever would, of course, but it was still fun to imagine.

"Did you just see that?"

He looked up as Abby dropped into the seat across from him.

"See what?" he asked casually.

"Some guy just bumped into me while I was carrying a bunch of stuff, and I didn't even drop a thing," she said.

"Well done?"

"No, I mean I thought I was going to, but I didn't. It was like I defied gravity or something!"

Harry raised one eyebrow at her.

"Oh never mind, you had to see it," she muttered, brushing the matter aside. "Anyway, how's it going?"

"All right, you?"

"As well as it can be, I guess," Abby sighed. "Just trying not to think about tomorrow."

He nodded in understanding. "Nervous?"

"A bit. Excited, too, but…yeah, mostly nervous."

"Do you want to play for me?" he said. "You know, like a practice."

Abby smiled as she stared down at her fingers. "I would, but I have this weird sort of superstition thing," she said. "I don't like to play the night before an audition."

"Right…of course," Harry said. "So, what do you usually do, then?"

"Er, let's see…freak out, watch telly, freak out some more, eat, go to sleep, have continuous nightmares that I'm late for the audition, wake up in a cold sweat and then fall back asleep again."

"Wow."

"Yeah it's loads of fun, especially because time always seems to go by extra slowly," she said.

Harry leaned back in his chair and stared at her for a moment, taking in her drawn face and haggard appearance. "Why don't you come over," he said. "It might help you kill time, get your mind off things."

She looked a bit taken aback. "Erm…okay, yeah," she said, straightening up a bit. "That's really nice of you to offer."

He shrugged. "It's not a big deal," he said. "You can stop by after work. I'll make you dinner."

"Seriously?"

"Nah, I'll probably just buy something."

Abby shook her head in amusement. "Well, thank you either way. I really do appreciate everything, you know," she said, her blue eyes practically shining. "And I promise after tomorrow I'll stop annoying you."

"You're not annoying me."

She grinned widely. "That's so sweet," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "You're lying to make me feel better."

"Right…" he said, easing his arm out before standing up. "I draw the line at sweet."

Abby let out a small laugh and rested her chin against her hand. "Not taking it back," she said in a sing-song voice.

"See you later, then?" he said, ignoring her.

She rolled her eyes, letting her hand fall to the table as she nodded. "I'll be there."

Harry bid her farewell as he left the shop, walking towards the same alley he always did to apparate away. He spent the rest of the afternoon doing chores both in and outside the house, paying special attention to the back garden which had been neglected for far too long. The flowerbeds were all dried up and withered, the shrubs looked like they belonged somewhere in the wild, and there were weeds growing in places that weeds shouldn't be growing.

" _Amputatus,_ " Harry said, moving his wand down in a slashing motion.

The shrub shook violently, but remained otherwise intact.

"Oh, come on," he groaned, looking down at his wand. "I know you know how to do this."

He repeated the incantation more clearly, but, again, nothing happened.

Harry swore at it before walking back to the porch and summoning one of the books from his office.  _Practical Household Magic_ came zooming into his arms, and he had to wipe a thin layer of dust off it before opening up to the right section.

He skimmed through it quickly trying to find a good diagram of the proper wand motion, before tossing the book aside and giving it another go. The charm was successful this time, leaving a row of cleanly trimmed shrubs and bushes that made the garden appear much more respectable.

He worked for another hour after that before deciding he'd done enough for the day, or perhaps even the year, and headed back inside to shower and change.

It was around six o'clock when the doorbell rang. Harry gave one last sweeping glance around the sitting room to make sure it was fully magic-proof before heading over to answer the door.

"Hiya," Abby greeted him, a large smile on her face.

Harry immediately noted that she looked much less tired than she did earlier and that her hair was down and combed. She never wore her hair down at work, so it was always a bit strange to see it that way. Not that it looked bad or anything. It was just…unexpected.

"Come in," he said, moving aside to let her walk through.

She followed him into the sitting room, and he gestured for her to take a seat.

"You like pizza?" Harry asked, sitting down as well.

"Of course."

"Good," he said. "It should be coming soon."

She nodded and thanked him with a warm smile.

"You look better," Harry said, resting his elbow against the back of the sofa. "Not as…"

"Dead?" Abby offered. "Yeah, I'm wearing make-up."

"Oh…right."

"You look red," she pointed out. "Especially in the nose area."

Harry's face was indeed still warm to the touch from being outside for so many hours. He might as well have been ginger with how quickly he got burnt from the sun.

"Yeah, I was doing some work outside," he told her, trying to feel around for any peeling. "Is it that bad? I didn't really check."

Abby giggled and he looked up at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing, sorry. It's just…you look sort of funny," she said. "But not in a bad way."

"What other kind of way can I look funny?"

"Well…in a cute way," she said, her own face going slightly red.

Harry didn't really understand what she meant by that, but he was fairly sure he didn't like it. After all, cute was not exactly on the list of qualities he wished to possess.

He was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of the pizza, and as they sat down to eat, conversation moved into more normal territory. Or as normal as it usually went.

"Do you reckon the Queen eats pizza?" Abby asked from her spot on the floor. She'd refused to sit on the sofa, claiming that she didn't trust herself not to make a mess.

Harry shrugged. "She must have done at some point."

"Yeah…probably the fancy authentic sort from Italy," she mused. "God, I would hate to be a royal."

"Cause of the pizza?"

"Among other things," she said, leaning back against the sofa near his legs. "You'd just have everyone breathing down your neck all the time. Watching your every move, writing about you in the papers. People you don't even know. Who'd want to live like that?"

Harry fiddled absentmindedly with his leftover crust. "They haven't got much of a choice, have they?"

"Well, no," she said, shifting her head around to face him. "A bit sad that, isn't it?"

He shrugged.

"But I suppose it's the same with any famous person," she said. "Just not as…prim."

Harry nodded, putting an abrupt end to the conversation as he got up to clean the table.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked, before mentally smacking himself. The closest thing he had to alcohol in the house were a few bottles of Butterbeer and some antibacterial hand gel.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she said. "I actually don't drink."

"Oh…well, er, great," Harry said. "I mean…I don't really have anything besides juice, anyway. Or tea. I can do hot chocolate, if you like? I even add those little marshmallows."

Abby smiled in amusement. "Hot chocolate sounds lovely."

"Be right back, then."

Harry headed into the kitchen and did the washing up before preparing Abby's drink. He didn't think he was doing all that much to ease her nerves about tomorrow, so he hoped a steaming cuppa of hot chocolate might do the trick. It had all sorts of healing powers, after all. Molly was adamant about that.

His actions were brought to an abrupt halt, however, when out of nowhere, a scream sounded from the next room.

Harry's head snapped up, his hand instantly going for his wand. "Abby?" he called, running into the sitting room with all sorts of unlikely scenarios flashing through his mind. "Abby?"

"I-I'm here."

He saw her climb out from behind one of the sofas, a hand placed on her heart as if in fright.

"What is it? What happened?" he demanded, his senses on high alert.

"There was…I mean—I thought…" she said, her eyes darting around the room before settling back on him. " _There was a face in the fire!"_

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he let his arm drop back down to his side.

"And it looked at me! I  _swear_  it looked at me," she continued, her eyes wide. "I know you probably think I'm mad, but Harry, I'm telling you—"

"You're not mad."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but then quickly shut it again. "Wait…what?"

A hundred different thoughts were currently rushing through his mind as he searched for a way out of this mess, but the only thing his useless brain could settle on was:

_Damn._

A part of him was just itching to tell her everything right then and there. Would she even believe him? Probably. She was almost tragically gullible. But if she didn't…could he prove it? Could he use magic in front of her?

_Well, it's against the law…_

_Bugger the law, then!_

_Yeah, that's all you need. A criminal record._

_No one has to find out._

_But what if someone does?_

Harry groaned aloud causing Abby to back away slightly.

He looked up at her, nearly forgetting she was there. And that's when the realisation suddenly struck him. He couldn't tell her. Not now. Tomorrow was quite possibly one of the most important days of her life, and he wasn't about to ruin that by flipping her entire world upside down. Besides, it was best to think this through. To plan it all out. Hermione said she would help him, and he trusted her to find a way.

In the meantime, though, he still had to fix the current mess he was in. And figure out who the hell had flooed him in the first place. He just hoped it was someone from the family. At least they knew who Abby was. Merlin, it had better not have been Davis. He could just imagine the look on her face when she realised he had a woman over.

Harry shook his head, focusing back on the main problem. "Yeah, about that. It's, er…well, I…I bought this thing for the fireplace," he said. "It's for the kids. It sort of…projects things. You know, for fun. I meant to turn it off, but I forgot."

It sounded stupid even to his own ears.

Abby stared at him for a moment in confusion before looking back over at the grate. "What a strange toy…" she said. "Don't suppose you know what the appeal is?"

Harry shrugged in an exaggerated manner. "You know how kids are…One of them has it, and suddenly it's all the rage."

She nodded in understanding, and Harry breathed small sigh of relief.

"What's that you've got there, then?"

He followed her line of sight down to his hand and was suddenly overcome by the strongest urge to clock himself.

He was still holding his wand.

_Bloody effing hell._

Abby let out a small laugh that she tried to cover up with her hand. "Is that a…a magic wand?" she asked, pointing at it. "You heard me screaming, so…you ran out here with a magic wand?"

Harry clenched his jaw as she laughed once more.

She apparently thought it was some sort of toy which should have come as a relief, but instead just made him feel irrationally annoyed. "I had it in my hand already," he told her. "James left it on the table. I was cleaning up."

"Oh, right. Of course," she said with a nod. "Well, can I give it a go, then? For old time's sake."

" _What_?" he said, swiftly moving his wand away as she reached out for it.

Abby looked up in surprise. "Er…never mind, then," she said. "Sorry, it's just…my brother was really into magic tricks when he was younger. He had a wand and cards and everything. It just reminded me of him, is all. But…yeah."

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced away a bit awkwardly.

"You have a brother?" he said in a much softer tone seeing as he'd seemingly just snapped at her for no reason.

She nodded. "I do, yeah."

Harry was expecting her to elaborate, but she'd just left it at that. "You never mentioned him before," he said, feeling curious despite himself.

"We don't really see each other much."

He stared at her for a moment as she absentmindedly played with her necklace. He then looked down at his wand.

"Well, here," he said, handing it over. "For old time's sake."

Abby gave him a small smile and took it from him. He watched as she brushed her fingers delicately across the wood, as if admiring it. "They make them much fancier these days," she said. "Ryan's was this plastic little thing. Chipped all over the place until he finally managed to break it clean in half."

She sniffed in amusement. "I think that's when he finally gave up on magic."

"Shame, that," Harry said.

Abby shrugged. "He wasn't that good," she said. "I, on the other hand, was very skilled in the art of opening doors and windows."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," she said with grin. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

He folded his arms and leant back against the sofa. "Oh, please do."

Abby cleared her throat dramatically before pointing his wand towards the window. "Abracadabra!" she yelled.

It remained firmly shut.

"Well…" she said, turning back to face him. "At least I tried."

Harry laughed. "That you did," he said. "And not a bad attempt, either."

"I should think not," she said, handing the wand back.

He stared at it for a moment before looking back up at her. "But don't give up, yeah?"

"On what?" Abby asked.

Harry looked her deep in the eyes and smiled. "On magic."


	21. Chapter 21

Harry bit back a yawn as he exited the lift and walked down the corridor that led to headquarters. He'd been on the phone with Abby for nearly an hour last night as she recounted every aspect of her audition to him in mind-numbing detail. All he'd asked was whether she'd done good or bad, but apparently it was much more complex than that.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter."

He glanced up to see his secretary waiting for him by the door. "Morning," he said, giving her a nod before walking into his office.

He wasn't surprised when she followed him inside with a roll of parchment and several files in her arms.

"Don't suppose I could have a minute to breathe, could I?" he said, taking a seat.

She gave him a sheepish look. "Oh, right. I'm sorry," she said, retreating back towards the door.

"Anna," Harry called, causing her to turn back around with an expectant look on her face. "I was only joking. You can come in."

"Oh," she said. "Of course."

Harry smiled at her, making a mental note to try and act a bit friendlier. "Are those for me, then?" he said, gesturing towards the pile in her arms.

"Yes," she said, approaching his desk. "The mission reports from Auror Wilson's team. Would you like to me schedule the debriefing for today?"

"Sure," he said, taking them from her. "Sometime after lunch would be fine."

She nodded. "Also, just a few other things…" she said, glancing down at her parchment. "The departmental budget meeting is next Wednesday, summer term ends next Friday, and…your birthday is in two weeks."

Harry looked up at her with one eyebrow raised.

"Hermione told me to remind you," Anna said, shifting her eyes to the side.

"Of course she did," he muttered, before leaning back in his chair. "Can I ask you something?"

Anna looked caught off guard, but she nodded nonetheless. "Of course, sir."

He stared at her for a moment. "Why is it that you're on first-name basis with Hermione, but you still call me 'Mr. Potter' even after working with me for almost two years?"

Her mouth opened slightly as if in surprise. "Erm…well, I—I don't really know," she said.

"You don't really know?" he repeated, giving her a doubtful look.

Harry could tell that she was holding something back. And normally, he would just let it go, but he couldn't help but feel slightly irritated. Was there something wrong with him? Was he really that unlikable that his own workmates wanted nothing to do with him?

He shook his head of the thought, wondering why he cared in the first place. "Look, never mind. Just forget I asked," he said, straightening back up in his chair. "Is there anything else, or…?"

"Er, yes. Just this invitation," she said, holding it out for him. "To the Ministry Banquet."

Harry glanced at the ornate purple envelope with distaste. "Didn't they just have one of those?"

"Well, they're seasonal, sir," she said.

"Right…well, you can bin it on your way out, then," he said, shifting his focus to the pile of reports on his desk.

Anna nodded and turned to leave, but he could hear her pause for a moment as she reached the doorway."Do you really want me to answer?" she said, suddenly.

"What?" he said, looking up at her.

"Your question from before," she said. "I can give you an honest answer, if you want?"

He felt a twinge of annoyance. "That's sort of the reason I asked, isn't it?"

Her face flushed with embarrassment. "Right, sorry."

"Well, go on, then," he said, crossing his arms. "What's your honest answer?"

She took a moment to respond, as if trying to properly formulate the words in her mind first.

"We don't talk very much," she said. "I don't think we've ever talked about anything besides work."

Harry stared at her with his eyebrows furrowed. "And…you and Hermione talk?"

"Sometimes," Anna said. "If you're not in your office when she stops by, we do talk a bit, yes. And well, besides that…you just don't really know me."

Harry looked at her strangely. "Of course I know you," he said. "I mean, I may not know every detail about your life, but—"

"What's my surname?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but then quickly shut it again. His mind was drawing a stubborn blank, but he knew it. He was sure he knew it. He must have known it at some point, anyway. So why couldn't he remember?

"Two whole years and you don't know," Anna said with a small frown. "Do you really have to wonder why we're not close?"

He shifted his eyes away, feeling a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden. How on earth could he have gone all this time without knowing something like that? "I'm sorry," he told her.

"No big deal," she said. "And it's Smith, by the way. Anna Smith. You probably could've guessed it, but there you go."

"Right…" he said. "Well, I definitely won't forget it now."

Anna smiled in a somewhat forced manner. "Would you like me to call you Harry?" she asked.

He exhaled softly and ran a hand through his hair. "Call me whatever you like," he said, picking up the report he'd started reading earlier. "Harry…Potter…You can call me a tosser, for all I care."

Her eyes went wide.

"That'd be fun, wouldn't it?" he mused, mostly talking to himself now. "'Hey Tosser, I need you to sign these papers.' 'The Head Tosser is not available at the moment, can I leave a message?' Beats the Boy-Who-Lived, eh?"

"I have to get back to work now, sir."

Harry looked up just as Anna turned on her heel and briskly walked out of his office.

"Yeah, that's you all right," he muttered. "A bloody tosser."

With a shake of his head, Harry turned his attention back to the task at hand. He worked diligently for the next few hours despite the continuous interruptions at his door. It was the way most Mondays went, with impromptu consults and meetings and not a second to catch his breath. By the time his break rolled around, he was in desperate need of an escape from his office.

He made his way down to the cafeteria, hoping he might catch Hermione or Arthur for a nice chat to get his mind off work. But by some cruel twist of fate, the only Weasley he spotted was Percy.

Harry immediately dropped his head down and headed towards the opposite end of the hall. He was in no mood to hear about recent Portkey regulations and Apparition test requirements.

Sitting down at one of the few empty tables, he picked up the lunch menu and spoke the word "chips" into it.

A small mouth protruded from the laminated parchment in response. "Will that be all?" it asked.

"Yes."

"Might I recommend perusing the wide array of salads and sandwiches for a healthier dining experience?"

"Just chips, thanks," he said.

The menu remained silent for a moment until Harry finally gave in with a sigh. "Fine," he said. "I'll have an apple, as well, then."

"Right away, sir."

He rolled his eyes and tossed the menu aside as his order appeared on the plate in front of him. He'd barely gotten a chip in his mouth, however, when someone pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat.

"What are you doing down here?" Hermione asked, picking up the menu and ordering a salad.

"Trying to escape my office and the people in it," he said, squirting some ketchup onto his plate. "It's good you're here, actually. I want to talk to you."

Hermione gave him a look to show she was listening as she dug into her meal, as well.

"First of all, stop chatting up my secretary. You're making me look bad."

She raised an eyebrow. "What on earth are you talking about?" she said, putting some lettuce onto his plate.

Harry put some chips onto hers in return which caused her to click her tongue in annoyance.

"Very funny," she said. "I don't want your oily chips."

"I don't want your dry lettuce," he said, dumping it back on her plate.

Hermione let out a small huff, but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, Anna says you two talk a lot, and it's making me look like an arse," he said. "So could you please keep it to a minimum?"

"Here's a thought," Hermione said, her eyes wide as if she'd just had an epiphany. "Why don't  _you_ just talk to her more?"

Harry let out a small snort of amusement. "Yeah, that's not happening," he said.

The expression on Hermione's face spoke volumes about what she thought of him at the moment.

"And while we're on the subject," he said, ignoring her. "Did you really think it was necessary to remind me about my birthday?"

Hermione had the decency to look a bit sheepish now. "Well, there was sort of a reason for that…"

"Being?"

She stalled for a moment by playing with her food. "In case you forgot to invite anyone to dinner at the Burrow," she said.

"Who would I invite who's not already going to be there?" he said, wrinkling his forehead. "Unless you mean—you're not seriously telling me to invite Abby, are you? Because I think we can all agree that wouldn't be wise."

She didn't say anything.

"We'd agree on that, wouldn't we, Hermione?"

"Of course," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Unless…what if we were really, really careful?"

Harry gave her a look that he hoped would convey how utterly daft she was being at the moment.

"This is the Burrow we're talking about," he said slowly. "A house that is held together by magic. You can't just be really, really careful."

Hermione sighed. "Look, I hear what you're saying, and I completely agree. But, well…I kind of already worked out most of the logistics," she said, pulling out a piece of parchment from her robe pocket and laying it out in front of him. "All it takes are some glamour charms and a bit of transfiguration, and the house will look just as muggle as you like."

Harry glanced down at the parchment despite his better judgement. It showed a rough two-dimensional diagram of the Burrow and all its rooms with small notes scribbled in throughout. It was just as intricate and precise as he might have expected, but as usual, Hermione had missed one glaring detail.

"What about the kids?" he asked, looking up at her. "They're like ticking time-bombs. Any one of them could blurt something out or do accidental magic. I mean…I appreciate all this, Hermione. I really do. But you can't plan for something like that."

Hermione's shoulders sagged in defeat, and he almost felt bad for bringing it up.

"Well, they weren't just my efforts," she said, rolling up the parchment and stuffing it back in her pocket with a frown.

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

"Molly's been pestering Ron and I about Abby for weeks, now," she explained. "She helped out with this, too. I'll have to ask her about the kids…"

Harry wanted to tell her it was pointless, but he let the matter go and focused on his chips instead.

As he and Hermione sat there eating in silence, he let his thoughts wander back to the other night when Abby had been over. He'd been so close to telling her everything then. So close that he could practically feel his blood pumping through his veins in anticipation.

And he would have. He would've told her, and he wouldn't have been bothered about it in the slightest.

"Hermione?" he said suddenly.

"Hmm?" she said, attempting to cut a cherry tomato in half with her fork and knife.

Harry swallowed hard. "I want to tell Abby about magic."

The tomato slipped from beneath Hermione's control and bounced across the table.

"You do?"

He nodded.

"Oh," she said, laying down her fork and knife.

"You asked me to come back to you when I decided, remember? So you could start looking into it?" he said. "Well…I decided."

Hermione glanced up at him with a bashful look on her face.

"What?" he said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Well, I…I may have started looking into it about a month ago."

Harry stared at her for a moment before letting out a burst of laughter.

"What?" she said, trying to glare at him. The effect was lost, however, as her lips twitched in amusement and she let out a small chuckle herself. "Oh come on, did you really expect me to just sit around?"

"No, Hermione, of course not," he said, grinning at her. "Tell me, then. Did you find anything?"

She seemed to sober up instantly at those words. "Possibly," she said, shifting her eyes around before leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "I think I might be on to something. I'll need to do more research, of course. But, well…I feel good about this."

To say Harry was shocked would be an understatement. He was expecting her to give him a flat-out 'no' or maybe even a 'I'll keep trying'. But he never actually thought there might be a solution, a real way for Abby to be part of the magical world. And it left him feeling more than a little excited. Because it wasn't enough to just tell her. It wasn't enough to just show her a few spells. If she couldn't walk through Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade on her own, if she couldn't see dragons and goblins and centaurs, if she could never do any of the wonderful things he wanted her to do, then what was the point?

No, he needed more than that.

"You really think it's possible?" Harry said, boring his eyes into hers.

"I really do," Hermione said, looking quite pleased with herself. "Just be patient. And  _don't_ tell anyone."

* * *

Quarter past five. Quarter past five. Was a quarter past five too late? Too early?

Abby bit her lip as she let her finger hover over the doorbell. She'd been standing in the same spot for the last five minutes debating whether or not to leg it before anyone spotted her.

_Just go home. You should really go home._

_But I don't want to…not like this._

_He can't help you._

_He doesn't have to!_

_Then what exactly is the point of coming here?_

She glanced down at the ground and shook her head.

"There isn't one," she told herself.

Abby knew it would be best to just turn around and leave. It was rude to stop by unannounced. Rude and annoying and invasive and a number of other unpleasant things. And yet, here she stood, her feet rooted to the ground and her emotions spiralling out of control.

She just needed to see him. Just for a second.

Before her brain could catch up with what she was doing, Abby brought her finger up once more and pressed down on the doorbell. She waited what seemed an eternity before the door finally opened to reveal a boy she'd never seen before with an almost shocking shade of blue hair.

Abby stood motionless for a moment.

"Can I help you?" the boy asked, with one eyebrow raised.

"Hi, there. Is, er…is Harry available?" she asked, feeling like a kid asking her mate's parents if they could come out and play. "Actually…forget it, never mind. I'll just come round another—"

"Harry!" the boy called through the corridor. "It's one of your nutter fangirls."

Abby opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it again. She could hear someone walking towards the door, and the boy stepped out of the way to let them through. A second later, Harry's face appeared in the doorway with a firm scowl set in place that quickly melted into a look of surprise upon seeing her.

"Abby?"

"Hi," she said, giving him an uncertain smile.

"You know her?" the boy asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said, before looking back down at the boy. "Can you give us a sec, mate?"

"Do you want me to hex her?" he asked quietly, pulling something out of his back pocket. "Cause I learned this wicked new spell—"

Harry immediately grabbed onto the boy's arm and hid it from view. "Teddy," he repeated with a bit more force. "Please just give us a second."

Teddy looked between her and Harry for a moment with his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you _sure_  you don't—?"

"Get lost," Harry hissed, pushing him back inside and shutting the door behind him.

Despite her current turmoil, Abby couldn't help but dwell on the boy's words. What exactly did he mean by hexing her? What that slang for something? By the look on Harry's face, she didn't imagine it was anything pleasant.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"No," Abby said quickly. "No, I should be apologising. I've come here unannounced, and…I—well, I don't know."

She exhaled and shifted her eyes away, feeling quite foolish all of a sudden.

"Well, not that I mind, but is there a reason you came?" he said. "Were you just bored, or…?"

Abby shook her head silently, all the emotions she'd been feeling for the past hour suddenly rushing back to the surface.

"Harry, I—" she said, before abruptly cutting off as she felt her voice start to tremble. She took a deep breath through her nose and tried once more. "I'm so stupid. Really, I am. I mean…it's not even a big deal. It's the opposite of a big deal, it's nothing. I just thought I'd come and let you know, but I could've called. I mean, I could've—"

"Stop," Harry said, grabbing her shoulders and looking her in the eyes. "Just tell me what's wrong."

She could feel her eyes start to water and she cursed herself for being so pathetic. "I didn't get it, Harry," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't get the job."

His body visibly relaxed, but he didn't remove his hands from her shoulders, something Abby was grateful for as she wasn't sure if she could bear the loss of his touch at the moment.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret.

And then he did something he'd never done before. He hugged her. Gently, but with feeling. And it felt so good and so safe that she closed her eyes and immediately let a set of tears stream down her cheeks. She hadn't known just how much she'd wanted the comfort of his embrace until this very moment. But she did. She wanted it so badly.

Abby noted with some embarrassment that she was beginning to leave a damp spot on Harry's crisp white shirt, so she brought her sleeve up to wipe her face. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the fact that he was in his work clothes. He'd probably just gotten home from a long and tiring day, and here she was, dumping herself on his doorstep like a needy child.

_He's got enough of those, hasn't he?_

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks, and she backed away from him.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

She glanced up to see a look of concern pass over his face. "Nothing," she said. "I'm just…well, I'm fine, now."

"What do you mean, you're fine?" he said, disbelief clear in his voice. "I know how much you wanted this."

Abby took in a deep breath and nodded. "I did, didn't I?" she said. "But…no matter."

Harry frowned as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well…I guess there's always next time, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, feeling her stomach clench. "Yeah, I suppose. Maybe."

He looked as if he was about to retort, but the sound of the door opening behind him put an abrupt halt to their conversation.

The blue-haired boy, who she now knew was called Teddy, poked his head out.

"Hi, there," he said, flashing her thin smile before looking up at Harry. "Sorry to interrupt, but Lily's in there screaming my bleeding ears off, and I can't make her stop. Can you  _please_  do something before I off myself?"

Abby was surprised to see a smug look form on Harry's face. "I thought you could handle it?" he said. "Whatever happened to: 'Harry, Harry I can watch them! Please let me watch them, Harry!"

"I didn't say it like that," Teddy said matter-of-factly. "And anyway, the only reason I wanted to watch them was to get away from Gran."

"I know," Harry said in amusement. "Just go back inside, I'll be there in a minute."

Teddy dropped his head down and let out a long sigh before shutting the door. He didn't do it with much force but the sound still managed to ring in Abby's ears as if it were taunting her.

"I should go," she said when Harry turned back to face her.

"What? Why?" he said in surprise.

"You're busy and probably tired and you've got enough things to worry about, so I'm—I'm just gonna go," she said in a rush. "Thank you, though. For, you know, just being there and everything."

Harry's mouth opened slightly as if he wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Look, just stay," he said. "Have dinner with us. Might as well, you're already here."

Abby shook her head. "No, I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?" he asked, with one eyebrow raised.

"I'd be imposing, it's completely rude," she said. "I mean, it's bad enough that I came here uninvited, I don't need to go disrupting your entire schedule, as well."

Harry chuckled softly. "Yeah…gotta stick to that schedule. Actually," he said, bringing his wrist up to check the time, "if you leave right now…I might just be able to make my six o'clock bubble bath. I could even squeeze in some 'me' time by the fire. Read a nice book. Oh, wouldn't that just be lovely. Who knows, maybe—"

" _Harry_ ," she said, laughing despite herself.

"What?" he asked.

"You're being ridiculous."

He stared at her for a moment and then leaned in closer, causing her breath to hitch slightly.

"So are you," he said.

She prayed that he didn't notice the blush forming on her face. There was still a healthy distance between them, but his sudden movement had caused her heart to nearly beat out of her chest.

Abby found herself fighting to keep from closing the space even further. She couldn't help it. Everything about him drew her in. His eyes…his scent…his lips. Oh, he had wonderful lips. Lips which were currently moving.

_Wait, what?_

"Well?" he said, breaking her out of her reverie. He'd straightened back up and folded his arms across his chest.

"Er…" Abby said, shifting her eyes away as Harry stared at her expectantly.

She was just about to give up and admit she hadn't been listening when the front door suddenly opened once more.

Teddy walked out, looking more than a little disgruntled as he dragged a crying Lily in tow.

"Here," he said, depositing her by Harry's side and then retreating back into the house.

Lily immediately let out a long wail and fell down onto her bum with a soft  _thump._  She looked a right mess with her face all blotchy and her hair in complete disarray, and Abby wanted nothing more than to take the little girl in her arms and hold her close.

"So, is that a yes?" Harry continued as if they hadn't been interrupted.

Abby's head snapped up, and she threw him a look of exasperation. He just stood there, completely unruffled as Lily grabbed hold of his arm and started yanking it down towards her.

"Fine, yes, whatever," she said, not quite sure what she was agreeing to but wanting him to focus his attention on the crying four-year-old, instead.

"That's what I thought," he said with a smirk. "Make yourself comfortable then, this may take a few minutes."

He then crouched down to face Lily who'd started beating her fists against him rather aggressively. "What is it, why are you crying?" he said, trapping her hands in his.

"B-b-because," she said, taking in short gasps between every syllable as she fought to escape his hold.

"Because why?"

"Because I  _am._ "

Harry sighed and dropped her hands. "You're crying because you're crying?" he asked.

Lily glared at him. "That's not what I said!" she screamed, stomping her foot on the ground. "You don't even know anything. Not even what I'm saying. You-you-you only know what you want!"

Abby glanced at Harry to see if he was following because she was having a hard time doing so, herself. He didn't look nearly as flustered as she felt, however. Indeed, he seemed rather calm, as if this sort of thing occurred every day.

_It probably does occur every day, genius._

"Oh, yeah…" she muttered.

Abby backed away at that point, wanting to give them both some space. She considered leaving altogether, but she suspected that Harry had been trying to ask her to stay for dinner earlier while she'd been ogling his lips. And of course, she'd then gone and said yes, so there was no going back now. Not that she was overly bothered, mind, but it did make the current situation a bit awkward as she felt as though she were intruding on a private moment.

And yet, she couldn't seem to look away.

Even after all this time, the idea of Harry being a parent still amazed her. Sure, he always talked about his kids. She knew what they liked and what they disliked. She knew their personalities, their strengths and their weaknesses. She knew nearly everything about them that Harry could possibly tell her. Because she loved to ask and he loved to answer.

But being here, seeing Harry and Lily with her own eyes—that wasn't something he could explain to her. He could never put into words the way Lily dived into his arms and nearly caused him to topple over. Or the way he gently brushed her hair out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead. He couldn't explain that tired, but contented look on his face, or the way he picked up his little girl and held her close. Those things were just there. And they told her so much more than words ever could.

Abby realised then why it all still amazed her. It was because she rarely witnessed moments like these. Completely mundane, completely bared moments. She could count on her fingers the number of times she'd even seen James, Al, and Lily, let alone the times they'd actually acted like themselves. But she wanted to see them. These three little people who made up Harry's entire world. She wanted to know them.

But did Harry want that?

Just a few weeks ago, she would've said no. But at the moment…she wasn't so sure. Things had changed. She didn't know how and she didn't know when, but things had definitely changed. And it was wonderful. It was nothing she ever expected it to be. But somehow, it just left her wanting more.

"Right, then," Harry said, walking over with Lily in his arms. "Crisis averted, I think."

Abby looked up at them and smiled. "Everything all right?"

He let out a puff of air and nodded. "Just J-A-M-E-S being a P-R-A-T," he said, as Lily buried her face into his neck. "But I'll deal with that, later. Do you wanna come inside, now?"

"I'd love to."

She followed him through the door and down the corridor, expecting to be led into the sitting room but walking towards the kitchen instead.

"Er, you can have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the table. "I'm just going to go check on the state of the house…and things."

Abby gave him a look of exasperation. "Oh come on, Harry. Are you honestly still worried about that?" she said. "It's not like I'll be offended by your mess."

"I know, I know. I just—it'll make me feel better," he said. "Besides, I need to have a talk with James, so it might be best if you wait here. I won't be long."

"Well, take your time, I don't mind," she said, wondering why he didn't just say so in the first place.

He nodded once and then left the room with Lily still in his arms.

Abby sat down at the table, resting her chin in her hand as she glanced around the empty kitchen. If the rest of the house was anything like it, then she couldn't imagine what Harry was so stressed out about. It seemed perfectly fine to her. There were some piles of paper lying around, cups and dishes on various surfaces, and a ripped-open packet of Maltesers with the insides strewn about and starting to roll off the table. But really, it was quite tame. Especially considering the fact that there were three children under the age of ten running around. She was fairly certain that Clara made more of a mess in their kitchen on a daily basis.

The sound of someone entering the room put a halt to her musings, and she looked up to see who had joined her. It was Teddy, the boy with the blue hair, and he was in the middle of singing a song she'd never heard before while nodding his head to some invisible beat. Abby had to hold back a smile as he turned swiftly on his heel, doing an interesting dance move on his way to the fridge.

It was at that moment that he finally noticed her sitting there.

" _Bloody hell!"_  he yelped, nearly dropping the carton of milk he'd just pulled out.

Abby gave him an apologetic smile as he leaned against the fridge and stared at her wide-eyed for a moment.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you all right?"

"Peachy," he said, shaking out his hair as he straightened back up. "So…he let you in, eh?"

She furrowed her eyebrows at the question. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I wasn't really planning on staying. I just needed to…to tell him something," she said as all the feelings of hopelessness suddenly came rushing back.

"I'm Teddy, by the way. Teddy Lupin," he said, walking over to her and offering his hand in greeting.

Abby smiled at him, welcoming the distraction from her thoughts as she shook his hand. "Abby Waters," she replied. "You're Harry's godson, yeah?"

"The one and only," he said, flashing her a grin.

She returned it in full. "It's lovely to finally meet you."

Teddy leaned back against the worktop, staring at her with a curious expression as he took a swig from the milk carton. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and folded his arms across his chest. "Not to be rude or anything," he said. "But who exactly are you?"

"Oh…erm, I'm just a friend of Harry's," she said.

Teddy chuckled. "Of course, yeah," he said, his eyes filled with amusement. "But really, though. Who are you?"

Abby stared at him in confusion. "Sorry…I'm not sure I understand."

The boy sighed heavily, as if she were purposefully being difficult. "I mean like…anyone can go on saying they're Harry Potter's friend," he said. "But what do you actually need from him?"

A sudden jolt shot through the pit of her stomach at his words. "What do you mean?" she breathed. "Has—has someone done that before? Used him like that?"

Teddy looked at her as if he wasn't quite sure if she was being serious or not, and that, alone, left her feeling unsettled.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," Teddy said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Harry wouldn't have let you in the house if he didn't trust you. Unless…"

He walked to the opposite side of the table and placed his hands down, looming over her with what she thought was supposed to be an intimidating expression, but instead just looked a bit like a grimace.

"You haven't poisoned him, have you? Dosed him with a love potion, perhaps?" Teddy said with one eyebrow raised.

" _What?"_  she exclaimed, her mind whirling. "Why would you think that? How—love potion— _what?_ "

Teddy simply stared at her as though he hadn't just accused her of being a murderer.

"Look," she said, taking in a deep breath. "I don't know what this friend of Harry's did in the past, but I would never use him and absolutely  _never_ hurt him. He's my friend, he's my best friend."

Teddy's shoulders relaxed slightly as he straightened back up. "Good," he said, giving her a bright smile as he casually leaned back against the worktop, once more.

Abby was feeling thoroughly confused now and wanted nothing more than for Harry to return and set things straight. Luckily, though, the boy seemed to lose interest in her, turning his attention instead on scouring the cupboards for something to eat. He emerged not too long after with two packets of biscuits in hand.

"Want some?" he said, holding one out to her.

"Er…sure, thanks," she said, not wanting to seem rude.

They both ate in silence for a moment, before Teddy regarded her once more. "You and Harry, yeah?" he said. "You're not…you know."

Abby looked up from her biscuit. "What?"

Teddy rolled his eyes. "You know," he said with more emphasis. "Like…together."

"Oh," she said, shifting slightly in her seat. "No. No, we're definitely not together. We're as un-together as two people can be, actually. Very not together."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well…good, I guess," he said with a half-shrug. "Do you fancy him, though?"

Abby's heart sped up almost instantly, but she tried her best to appear casual. "Me? Fancy Harry?" she said, letting out a small laugh as if the notion was ridiculous. "I don't, no. Definitely not."

"You don't know?" Teddy asked.

Her eyes widened. "No, no, that's not what I said," she said, feeling her face heat up. "I meant, 'I don't, no' as in: I don't  _comma_ no. There's a huge difference. I mean, I definitely—"

"Oi!" Teddy said, holding his hands up as he broke out into laughter. "Relax, I'm only joking."

Abby stared at him for a moment before swallowing thickly.

"Should've seen your face, though," he said, before picking up the carton of milk and taking another drink.

He offered her some once he was finished, but she politely declined.

They sat in silence after that, leaving Abby with plenty of time to dwell on her idiotic overreaction. She might as well have been wearing a sign around her neck with the words 'I heart Harry Potter' on it. Teddy, of course, hadn't paid her any mind, but she knew someone else could have caught on rather quick. An image of Hermione flashed in her mind for some reason.

The sound of heavy footfalls coming down the stairs pulled Abby from her thoughts.

"Here comes trouble…" Teddy said, idly flipping a page in the magazine he was reading.

She looked at him in question, but there was no need as the source of 'trouble' came barrelling through the doorway seconds later.

James had a scowl on his face as he made a beeline towards the patio door and slid it open roughly.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you," Harry said, following after him. "James… _James!"_

" _What?"_ the boy said, turning to face him. "I said I was sorry."

"No, you didn't. You're just full of words today, but 'sorry' isn't one of them," Harry said, sliding the door back into place. "Now, can you please come back and talk to me like a normal human being?"

"I'm not a human being, I'm a centaur."

Teddy snorted from beside her, but he quickly covered it with a cough as Harry threw a glare in his direction.

His eyes then fell on her, and Abby could have sworn that she saw an uneasy look pass over his face as he glanced between her and Teddy. He didn't say anything, though, focusing his attention back on James, instead.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood for this right now," Harry said, lowering his voice. "Can you please just come and apologise to your sister so we can be done with this whole business."

"Why do I have to apologise?" James demanded. "I broke her stupid toy, so what? You can fix it in two seconds."

Harry rubbed his face and let out a heavy sigh. "James, that's not what this is about, and you know it."

"Oh, whatever," he said, pushing past him. "She's just crying cause she's a baby."

"I'm not a baby!"

Abby shifted her eyes over to see Al and Lily enter the kitchen, as well. The little girl ran up and shoved James hard in the stomach causing him to stumble over backwards, and she was just about to aim a kick at his shin when Harry pulled her back and held her in place.

"Stop it right this second," he hissed at her.

"But I'm not a baby!" she cried, fighting against his hold.

"Yes, but you tell him that, Lily, you don't hit him."

"No, you're right," James told her. "You don't cry like a baby, you cry like a  _girl._ Guess you really are one!"

" _James,_ " Harry said, snapping his head up and levelling him with a burning stare. "That is enough!I don't want to hear another word out of you about this, you got that? You're twice her age, start acting like it."

"Yeah, mate," Teddy said, observing the scene with a frown. "Pick on someone your own size, eh?"

Abby saw something flash in the younger boy's eyes as he looked between Harry and Teddy, and then, for just a brief moment, at her.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I will."

He then made his way over to Al, who'd been standing quietly near the door up until then, and shoved his shoulder hard against him. Al hit the wall with a small cry of pain that was nearly drowned out by the sound of Harry's yell.

"Get back here!" Harry said, following him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "I SAID GET BACK HERE."

The sound of thundering footsteps and muffled shouts filled the room for a moment before silence fell once more.

Abby let out a small breath and relaxed her hands which she hadn't realised she'd been clenching until now. She knew her reaction was silly. Judging by the nonchalant manner in which Teddy had gone back to reading his magazine, the fight hadn't exactly been earth-shattering. But it was still enough to get everyone riled up, and she had to wonder what had caused it in the first place.

Abby shook her head, realising that it was none of her business. She glanced around the kitchen then and saw Lily standing near the wall still looking rather hurt while Al was on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees and a scowl on his face. And there was this niggling voice inside Abby's mind telling her that she should do something. That she couldn't just sit there trying to be invisible while there were two very upset children in the room. Surely it was her responsibility as an adult to try and comfort them? But again…maybe it was none of her business. Maybe Harry wouldn't want her getting involved. It wasn't as if she had the slightest idea of what to do, anyway.

In the end, though, Lily made the decision for her.

She plodded her way over, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and climbed onto Abby's lap without so much as a word.

Abby's mouth opened a bit in surprise as she stared down at the mess of red hair that was now tickling at her chin. The little girl lay back against her, her small body warm and her breaths slow and steady. And Abby dared not move lest she make her uncomfortable.

She couldn't remember ever holding a child like this before, but it warmed her heart in a way she hadn't expected it to. Lily had chosen to come to her. Maybe she'd felt safe or comfortable in doing so, or maybe she'd just wanted a comfy seat to rest on. Whatever the reason, Abby felt strangely honoured.

"Are you okay, Lily?" she asked gently, brushing a tentative hand through the girl's red locks.

She gave a quick shrug, but didn't say anything.

Abby brought her hand down, worried that perhaps she'd overstepped some boundary, but Lily quickly took hold of it and pulled it back up to her head, once more.

"You like that, don't you?" Abby said, a smile playing on her lips as she continued to brush her fingers through the girl's hair.

Lily nodded.

"Good luck getting her to leave you alone, now," Teddy said, eyeing them over his magazine.

Lily made a noise of discontent and stuck her tongue out at him. "We're not even friends anymore, you know."

Teddy placed a hand over his heart as if he'd just been wounded. "No…no, please…anything but that!" he said, collapsing against the back of his chair.

A soft chuckle met her ears and Abby turned to see Al watching the scene in amusement. Teddy seemed to notice, as well, for he continued with his dramatic display by falling off his chair and landing on the floor in a heap.

"Boys are stupid, right Abby?" Lily said in a matter-of-fact way as she looked up at her. "Cause we're girls, right?"

"Er…right," she said, not sure which she was agreeing to.

Lily whipped her head back around to face Teddy. "Abby says boys are stupid!" she shouted at him.

Abby let out a nervous laugh, very much hoping that Harry hadn't been able to hear that. "Not all boys, though, yeah?" she said.

"All boys," Lily said in a firm and somewhat ominous voice.

Teddy picked himself up off the floor at that point, shaking his hair out and brushing off his clothes. "Come on, Al," he said, walking over to him. "We're obviously not wanted here."

Al grinned, allowing the older boy to pull him up and wrap an arm around his shoulder as they both left the room.

As Abby watched them go, she felt a sudden rush of affection for Teddy. Sure, he'd messed with her mind a bit and accused her of some very strange things. But he had a good heart. And she always respected a person with a good heart.

"Finally," Lily said, turning around in her lap to face her. "Just girls."

Abby let out a sniff of amusement and nodded. "Just girls."

"Jamie says I'm not a girl," she mumbled, playing with a strand of Abby's hair. "But I am one, right?"

Something squeezed in Abby's heart, and she felt her shoulders deflate a bit. "Of course you are, love," she said, looking her in the eyes. "No one can tell you any different."

"Well, cause—cause Jamie says girls like pink. But I don't like pink. I like green and purple and sometimes I like blue. And Jamie says that I don't play with girls cause I only play with Hugo and I don't play with Molly cause Molly likes doll houses but I don't. And I don't want to cut my hair, but Jamie says I have to cut it cause I'm a boy. But I'm not a boy! I'm not!"

Lily dropped the piece of hair in her hand and crossed her arms with a small huff, scowling at the empty space in front of her.

Abby knew she had to say something right about now, but God if she wasn't at a complete loss. There was a very impressionable child sitting in her lap that needed reassuring, and she was terrified that she was just going to botch it all up.

But she had to at least give it a go, didn't she?

"Lily…don't listen to what James says, yeah? It doesn't matter if you don't like pink and doll houses. Those things don't make you a girl," she said, moving her red fringe out of her eyes. "Just like it doesn't make you a boy if you really like blue or—or playing with cars or action figures. What matters is what  _you_ think. That's all. Does that make sense?"

Lily scrunched up her face as if considering this deeply, and then nodded.

"Good," Abby said with a relieved smile.

"I'm glad I'm not a boy," Lily said. "They're all stupid, anyways."

Abby stared at her for a moment and then swallowed hard. "Well, erm…see, I didn't actually say that earlier. Not—not all boys are stupid, Lily."

"But they are."

"Well, no. At least…you didn't hear that from me."

"But you said."

"I don't think I did."

"But you did."

Abby exhaled softly, realising it was pointless to try and win this argument. Four-year-olds were apparently a stubborn lot.

With that in mind, she smiled at the little girl and tried a different approach. "Say…I'm sure you know some boys that aren't stupid."

Lily seemed to think about this for a moment before shaking her head.

"Well…what about your dad?" she said quickly. "He's not stupid, is he?"

To her surprise, Lily let out a giggle. "Daddy's not a boy," she said, as if the idea was silly. "He's a…a…"

"Yes?" Abby urged.

"He's just a daddy," Lily said with a shrug.

Abby bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Well, yes, but…he's also a boy, Lily," she said. "Boys grow up to be daddies and girls grow up to be mummies."

Lily's mouth dropped open in almost comical manner as she stared at her wide-eyed. "I'm gonna be a mummy?" she breathed.

"Well—I mean—you don't have to—"

Abby cut off abruptly when she noticed Lily's bottom lip trembling and a look of distress forming on her face.

"But I want to be a daddy!" she cried, dropping her head against Abby's shoulder and breaking down into a fit of muffled sobs.

Abby froze. Things had just gone from bad to good to worse in the space of about ten minutes, and she hadn't the faintest idea how.

"It's okay….Really, it'll turn out all right in the end, you'll see," she said, rubbing the girl's back while cringing at her own attempts at comfort.

"Words we could all live by, I'm sure."

The sound of Harry's voice nearly made her jump, and she glanced up to see him standing in the doorway with an amused look on his face.

"She was fine like five seconds ago," Abby said in a rush.

But he didn't pay her any mind as he walked over and knelt down next to the chair. "Lily…that's enough, now," he said.

"Daddy?" she said, lifting her head up and rubbing her eyes.

"Come on," he said, tugging lightly on her hand. "I want you to wash your face and then go talk to James. He has something to tell you."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"But what?"

"You'll see," Harry repeated. "It's a surprise. Now, go."

Lily's eyes widened and she immediately hopped off Abby's lap and hurried out of the room.

"And bring a comb down when you're done, your hair looks like a rat's nest," he called after her.

Harry stood up then and leant against one of the chairs, giving Abby an apologetic look. "You're probably regretting having stayed, aren't you?"

"What?" she said in surprise. "No, of course not."

He raised an eyebrow, clear doubt written on his face.

"I mean it. The thought didn't even cross my mind," she said with a shrug. "I'm having a wonderful time."

"Right," he said with a nod. "Because nothing beats screaming and crying children."

"Oh, there was hardly any screaming," she said, brushing away his words with a wave of her hand. "If you really want to scare me away, you're going to have to try a bit harder than that."

He chuckled in response. "Well…good to know," he said. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Harry rubbed his face then and exhaled heavily before tugging at the tie around his neck and tossing it on the table.

Abby watched as he walked over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a pot which he then proceeded to fill with water. "Harry," she said, an idea suddenly striking her.

"Hmm?"

"What is it you were planning on making for dinner?"

He stared down at the pot in his hand for a moment and then back up at her. "I don't even know, yet," he said, shaking his head. "I just figured I'd boil some water."

She let out a small laugh and made her way over to him. "Why don't I take care of it?" she said, gesturing towards the pot. "It's the least I can do."

Harry gave her a look. "You don't have to do anything."

"But I want to."

"But you're a guest."

"I'm a friend," she corrected.

"Abby," he said, a look of protest on his face.

"No, stop," she said, putting a hand on his chest, but then quickly dropping it. "I want to make dinner. And I want you to go…relax or something. Change into some comfortable clothes. Read a book, I don't know. Just leave."

He stared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Abby shook her head.

Harry let out a sniff of amusement. "Fine. Have it your way," he said, handing over the pot. "Anything you need will be in these two cupboards and the one right behind you. Just, er…don't—don't open this drawer right here."

Abby stared at where he was pointing and then back up at him. "Why not?" she asked before realising it was none of her business.

"Well it's…broken. Sort of."

"Okay," she said with a shrug.

"Oh, and this one, too," he said, pointing to another.

"They're both broken?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, looking away from her. "So, erm, yeah. I'll be back in a bit."

"Take your time," she said, watching him leave the room.

Abby turned around then and opened up various cupboards, hoping to find something that was quick and easy to make. After digging around a bit, she grabbed the ingredients she would need for pasta and set out to find another pot and strainer.

"Must be here somewhere," she mumbled, kneeling down to look through one of the bottom cupboards. She stuck her arm inside blindly, sifting through various pots and pans before her hand came into contact with something unfamiliar.

"What the…?" she said, pulling out the somewhat heavy object and staring at in confusion. It was large, round, and black with various scratches and burns along the surface that made it appear quite used. And if she didn't know any better, she could've sworn it was a—"Cauldron?"

Why did Harry have a cauldron in his kitchen? At least, she thought it was a cauldron. It definitely looked like one. Like the sort people cooked with in the Middle Ages or witches used in books and films to brew potions. And she might have let the matter go if she hadn't then found yet another one the exact same size and shape but of a different colour.

"What?" she said with a confused laugh, staring at the grey cauldron that looked even more beat up than the first one. They seemed so glaringly out of the place in the otherwise normal kitchen, and she had to wonder what Harry could possibly use them for.

Her gaze shifted almost automatically to the drawers he had told her not to open, and she stared at them for a moment, her insides practically burning with curiosity.

Were they really broken, or did Harry just not want her to see what was inside? And if that was the case, what could he possibly be hiding?

_Maybe I could take just a tiny peek…_

_No._

_It's not like there'll be anything sinister inside._

_Don't even think about it._

_They might even be broken like he said._

_All the more reason to: Not. Open. Them._

Abby's fingers brushed against the handle of one of the drawers, just itching to pull it right open. But a voice in her head was stopping her. And this time it wasn't her own.

" _Harry wouldn't have let you in the house if he didn't trust you."_

Abby shook her head and took a step back, her hand falling uselessly at her side. Teddy's words from earlier filled her with a sudden sense of shame, and she wondered for a moment if perhaps he'd been right to be wary of her.

She sighed, pushing the thought from her mind. She would probably dwell on it later, but right now, there were more pressing matters to deal with. Like where Harry kept his ruddy strainer.

It took a while for her to locate it, and by the time she'd finished with the rest of the cooking, Harry had re-entered the kitchen dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and looking a bit less dead on his feet.

He took a seat at the table and slouched back against the chair. "What's for dinner?" he asked with a bright smile that made Abby feel quite warm.

"Oh, you know," she said. "Just the most delicious pasta you'll ever eat."

"And you're confident about that, are you?"

"Quite."

Harry grinned before placing a hand on the back of his shoulder and moving it around a bit.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, noticing a small grimace on his face.

He shook his head. "Just sore," he said. "I sat in the same position for about five hours today at work. I think it did me in a bit."

"Well," she said, taking a seat across from him. "I suppose that happens when you get old."

Harry glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…go on, have a laugh," he said. "Just wait till you're my age."

She giggled and was about to respond with a cheeky comment when a look of pain passed over his face once again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said abruptly.

He was quite obviously not fine.

"Well…I'm not very well-versed in this area, but…do you want me to massage it for you?"

Harry looked at her in surprise. "No, it's…it's fine."

"I don't mind," she said.

"It's really fine."

She shrugged. "Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Are you any good?"

Abby had to fight to hold back a smile. "I don't really know," she admitted. "I suppose…I mean, we could find out."

Harry stared at her before sighing in defeat. "Fine, give it a go, then."

She smiled and made her way around the table to position herself behind him. "Where does it hurt?" she asked.

"Right side, mostly."

"Got it," she said, resting a hand against his shoulder. "Just…let me know if it's working."

Abby took in a deep breath then before digging her hands into his back. She started moving them in a motion she once saw on the telly, and it seemed easy enough at first. The difficult bit was having to remind herself every few seconds that she wasn't touching Harry's back for her own pleasure, but rather for his relief.

Something that was quite hard considering how muscular and amazing it felt under her fingers.

"Ow—ooh—okay,  _stop_. You need to stop," Harry said suddenly.

"What is it?" she said, letting her hands fall.

"Could you not…jab me so much?"

"Was I jabbing you?"

"Yes, among other things," he said. "Look, why don't we just stop, yeah? I'll take a hot shower tonight and everything will be fine."

Abby frowned. "Can I try one more time?" she asked, feeling guilty. "I'll do something else, something less painful."

Harry gave her a look that clearly said he didn't think this was a good idea, but he gave in nonetheless. "Fine, just…be gentler, please," he said, before dropping his head down on the table to rest atop his arms.

"Gentle…right…I can be gentle," she said.

She clenched her hand into a fist, bringing it up to just above his shoulder blade and then very carefully kneaded the area like she would a ball of dough. He hissed when she dug into a particular knot.

"Did I hurt you?" she said, removing her hand.

"No, no, keep going," he mumbled.

Exhaling softly, Abby continued the motion with more intensity causing Harry to let out a low moan of pleasure. The sound made her eyes widen and she swallowed hard, her throat going a bit dry.

"Right there… _oh_ …that feels good," he said, before moaning softly once more.

Abby wanted to scream at him to shut up. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? No, of course he didn't. He had no bloody clue.

_Just think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts._

_Those are_ very _happy thoughts, thank you very much._

_Stop. Don't even go there._

_Too late._

Abby's cheeks were on fire now. And she was torn between the urge to sprint right out of the kitchen, or grab Harry by his baby-blue shirt and snog his face off.

Unfortunately, neither option was very practical at the moment. But that didn't stop her from imagining things she shouldn't be imagining. Like what his lips tasted like…or how soft they'd feel against hers…or what sounds he would make when—

"Dad…Dad, where are you?"

Abby nearly jumped out of her skin. She quickly removed her hands and stepped away from Harry, thanking the heavens above that no one could read her mind.

"Dad!"

"I'm here, I'm here," Harry called, getting up and stretching. He gave her a grateful look. "Thanks for that. It feels a lot better."

"You're problem," she said with a smile. "I-I mean you're welcome. I meant to say 'no problem' but then I started to—"

"I got it, yeah," Harry said, patting her arm as he walked past.

Abby squeezed her eyes shut and let out a soft groan. She needed to relax. It was the only way to stop her mouth from running. And as her mind was still recovering from inappropriate thoughts about Harry, the last thing she needed right now was to blurt something out.

"Is there anything to eat, yet? I'm starved."

The voice came from the doorway, and she turned around to see James standing there looking up at Harry in exasperation.

"Abby made dinner for us, actually," he said, gesturing towards her. "Isn't that nice of her?"

"Sure…can I eat, now?"

Harry stared at the boy for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "Yeah, just go call everyone down," he said with a resigned tone. "And when you come back, you're going to set the table."

James turned swiftly on his heel and disappeared up the stairs.

"You heard me, James," Harry called after him. "I want you to help me clean up afterwards, too, you got that?"

His words were met with silence.

"James!"

Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance before making his way over to one of the cupboards and starting to pull out plates rather aggressively. "Of course he's not going to listen. Why would he?" he said with mocking tone. "He knows I'll just end up doing it, myself. The idiot that I am…"

Abby wasn't sure if he was talking to her or not, so she thought it was best not to respond. She followed after him instead and started opening up various drawers to find the utensils.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, er…I just thought I'd help," she said, looking up at him.

Harry's face softened in response, and he seemed to relax his shoulders a bit. "You don't have to," he said. "You've done more than enough. Just go sit down."

"Oh, it's really not—"

But her protests were cut off by the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. The kids entered the kitchen, a wall of noise following after them as they clambered around the table and sat down. James was conspicuously absent, and Harry seemed to notice as well for he asked Al about his brother's whereabouts.

"He's doing wee," Lily answered for him. "And he said don't bother him."

"That's what he said, did he?" Harry asked.

Lily nodded with her eyebrows raised.

"Lovely," Harry muttered, before making his way over to the staircase to call him down.

Abby turned back around and resumed her search for the forks. The next drawer she opened was definitely not for utensils, but the contents inside made her pause. There were rows of corked glass containers, some standing upright, some having fallen over, all filled to varying degrees with different coloured liquids. The containers looked like the sort of flasks that would be found in a chemistry lab which was strange enough. But even the drawer, itself, seemed off somehow. The inside was much bigger than any of the others despite the fact that it looked very much the same on the outside.

With a sudden jolt, Abby realised that this was the drawer Harry had told her not to open. She whipped her head around to see if he'd noticed her, but he was too busy dragging James down the corridor and into the kitchen. Teddy, Al, and Lily weren't paying her any mind, as well.

No one was watching. And she'd already opened it by accident. Completely by accident. It wasn't like she could undo what she just saw. Surely it wouldn't matter if she got a better look?

Abby licked her lips and tentatively reached out for one of the flasks. The label on it was peeling and faded, and she could just make out a single word.

_Potion._

Her heart skipped a beat.

"What?" she breathed.

The only potions she knew about were the magical sort. The sort in books and movies. Not in people's kitchens. So what on earth was Harry doing with an entire drawer full of them? Were they some sort of alternative medicine or something?

Abby grabbed another flask with a clearer label, hoping it would give her more information. But the sound of footsteps walking towards her caused her to immediately place it back down and close the drawer with a snap.

She could feel her pulse quicken as Harry approached, and she just knew he'd see right through her. Lying wasn't exactly her strong suit. It made her anxious and sweaty and tongue-tied. And she was already enough of those things as a default. Well…maybe not sweaty. Although, her hands did get clammy way too often for her tastes.

"Hey."

Abby jumped when Harry touched her shoulder, and she turned around to see an amused look on his face.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked.

"No—sorry. I was…I was just thinking."

"Okay…well, do you want to eat?"

She put a smile on and made her way over to the table, too afraid to speak lest she blurt something out. She tried not to think too much on it throughout dinner which was surprisingly easy considering the multiple conversations going on around her. Everyone seemed to talk over each other, and there was a whole lot of arguing over the strangest things.

"Lily drank out of my cup!" Al said, giving Harry a look of pure indignation.

"Lily, I asked if you wanted juice, and you said no."

"I want juice, now," Lily said.

Harry got up to pour her some, but when he placed it down in front of her she shook her head.

"I want Al's juice."

"It's the same juice," Harry told her.

"Nuh-uh. Al's juice is green."

"The cup is green, stupid," James said.

"Then I want a green cup!" Lily shouted in his face, standing up to tower over him.

Harry wordlessly poured her juice into a green cup before placing it on the table and pushing her down into a sitting position.

"What do I do with mine? It's got her germs all over it," Al whined, resting his chin on his arms and pushing the cup away with one finger.

"She's your sister, you all have the same germs," Harry said, pushing it back towards him.

That started an entirely different argument which ended in Al not touching his drink for the rest of dinner.

"If you decide never to come over again, I wouldn't blame you."

Abby looked up as Harry sat down next to her and handed her a cup of tea.

They were sitting in the garden, watching the kids play a vigorous game of It. Abby had wanted to leave right after dinner, feeling like she'd long overstayed her welcome, but Harry convinced her otherwise. Basically, he called her thick and told her she couldn't leave without drinking tea first. But it was a good enough argument, so she caved.

"Why would I do something like that?" she said, raising her eyebrows in question.

"I'm just saying," Harry said with a shrug. "They were being particularly annoying today. Even you have to admit that."

Abby let out a small giggle and shook her head. "There were…difficult moments, yes," she said. "But it was worth it."

"How so?"

She stared at him for a moment before turning back to face the scene before her. James and Al had just tackled Teddy to the ground and Lily was stuffing blades of grass down his shirt.

"It's funny," she said, ignoring his question. "I think I've learned more about you today than in all the time I've known you."

"How do you mean?" he said, looking a bit wary.

"Well, it's nothing sinister," she said with a small laugh. "Although…there were a few things I wanted to ask you about, but…I suppose it doesn't really matter right now."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "So, what is it, then?"

Abby traced her finger around the edge of the teacup, completely lost in thought for a moment as the events of the day flashed before her mind's eye. Seeing Harry with Lily. Seeing Harry with James. Seeing the fighting and the crying and the yelling and arguing and smiling and laughing. And so many things that made her heart tighten in a way she couldn't explain.

Because he'd done things the right way. And he'd been there. And he was good and he was kind. And he loved them more than anything in the world.

"You're a good father, Harry," Abby said, looking into his green eyes that always seemed just a bit too old. "You're a really good father. And I wanted to tell you that because…I don't think you know."

Harry stared back at her, his lips slightly parted.

"And maybe that means nothing coming from me...But I hope it does."

He glanced down at his fingers, seemingly fascinated by them all of a sudden. "You still think that even after everything you've seen today?" he asked.

Abby sniffed in amusement. "I think that because of everything I've seen," she said, placing a hand atop his and causing him to look up at her. "It doesn't matter that they fight or that they don't listen to you, sometimes. None of that matters…Believe me, I know. I  _know_ what matters."

"And you do, too, don't you?" she added softly, running her thumb once over his knuckles.

Harry creased his forehead and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Abby…"

"You love them," she said, shifting her eyes towards the horizon where the sun was only just beginning to set. "That's enough. That's all that matters."


	22. Chapter 22

"Hey, Ollie?" Abby called from her spot behind the counter.

The man in question was currently stocking a back shelf with boxes of reeds, but he made a noise to indicate that he'd heard her.

"What do you know about potions?" she said, scrolling down a webpage about some video game she'd never heard of. "Like…suppose I just said the word, yeah? What would come to mind?"

Ollie gave her a strange look. "What on earth are you searching on that thing?" he said. "You said it was important."

"It is, I promise," she said, giving him an innocent smile.

He just shook his head and went back to work.

"Okay, more specifically…" she tried again. "Have you ever heard of a love potion?"

"No, and nor do I want to," he said. "And you can go ahead and delete that browser history when you're done."

Abby sighed and rested her head against her hand in defeat. She'd been on Ollie's laptop for nearly an hour now, scouring the internet for some sort of answers. But in that hour, all she'd managed to learn was that potions were magical liquids found in literature and mythology. Two places that Harry's kitchen definitely did not belong to.

Of course, the search did also lead her to some very strange sites about magic and witchcraft with topics that were a bit too eerie for her liking. But she quickly dismissed those. Somehow she didn't think Harry belonged to a cult or practised voodoo and necromancy in his cellar.

At least…that was the hope.

_He does own two cauldrons…_

_Which I'm sure he has a good reason for._

_Possibly._

"What are you on about potions for, anyway?" Ollie asked, walking over towards her with an empty box in his arms.

"Oh, it's a long story," she mumbled, shutting the laptop and pushing it aside.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him shrug and walk away. And a part of her wished that he would come back and pester her a bit more for details. She just wanted someone to talk to about this. Someone who wasn't Harry.

Abby bit her lip, staring at Ollie's back for a moment before making her way over towards him.

"Well, it's not that long, I suppose," she said, leaning casually against one of the shelves.

He turned towards her with a knowing look on his face. "Go on, then."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Well…it's like this…" she said. "I was at a friend's house the other day—Harry, you've met him. The one I brought here once?"

At Ollie's blank look, she explained further. "Dark hair…sort of tall?"

"I've seen about three people in here just this morning who fit that description."

Abby let out a small sigh of defeat. "The one I fancy."

A look of recognition passed over Ollie's face, followed by a small smirk. "Right…how could I forget?" he said, turning back towards the shelf he'd been stocking. "You wouldn't shut up about him and that bracelet he got you."

She opened her mouth before letting out a small huff of indignation. "I didn't talk about him that much!"

Ollie simply chuckled as he knelt down to open up another box. "Is that what this whole love potion thing is about, then?" he said, looking up at her. "Trying to entice your bloke?"

Abby hated that her cheeks burned at the accusation. "No," she said, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. "The fact that I fancy him has nothing to do with this, thank you. No, it's about…well…it's about something I found in his house."

Ollie furrowed his eyebrows at her, looking much more interested now. "What did you find?"

She shifted her gaze down to her fingers, feeling a bit unsure all of a sudden. It just seemed wrong to talk about Harry's personal things behind his back. What if he didn't want anyone to know? What if it really was some deep, dark secret that she wasn't supposed to find out about?

_All the more reason to share it, right?_

Abby shook her head. That was a whole other can of worms she didn't want to open. Whatever this was, it couldn't be dark. It just couldn't. This was  _Harry,_ for Christ's sake. Sure, he was a bit closed-off and secretive, but he wasn't a bad person. He wasn't.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me…"

"No, no, it's fine. It's not a big deal," she said quickly, trying to assure herself along with him.

"All right," Ollie said with a shrug. "What is it, then?"

Abby took in a deep breath and started. "Okay, well…the other day I was at Harry's house—in his kitchen. And he'd told me not to open this one drawer, but I sort of…well, I did," she said, shifting her eyes away once more. "And the inside was much bigger than it should've been. Bigger than all the other drawers I'd opened. And there were all these glass bottles with different coloured liquids in them. And I picked one up to read the label…and it just said 'potion'."

"And before that," she continued, feeling encouraged by Ollie's confused look. "I found a sort of pot in one of his cupboards. But…it wasn't exactly a pot. It was more like a cauldron, like a  _real_ cauldron. And there were two of them."

He let out a thoughtful hum.

"And even before all  _that_ ," she added, slightly breathless now. "His godson, yeah? He said something about a love potion. And he was being completely serious like it was a real thing. I mean…it was just one thing after another and none of it made any sense. And I've been trying to search for some possible explanation on the internet, but it's been completely useless."

Abby exhaled and leaned her head back against the shelf behind her. "Am I overreacting?"

Ollie's forehead creased in thought as he took everything in. "Well…I won't deny it's a bit odd," he said. "Potions and cauldrons…Maybe he's a Chemist or something. Or maybe he just likes to roleplay."

She let out a small sniff of amusement. "He's not really the roleplaying type," she said. "And he works in law enforcement. Won't tell me what exactly, but apparently it's top-secret."

"There you go, then," Ollie said as if the explanation were obvious. "It's part of his work. Probably one of them forensic scientists."

Abby considered that for a moment, trying to remember anything Harry had ever said about his job. But besides that initial conversation all those months ago, they'd never really discussed it again.

"Listen," Ollie said, breaking into her thoughts. "As much as I enjoy having this conversation with you, I really need to get back to work. But…why not just ask the bloke, yourself, eh?"

She shook her head. "I can't," she said. "He'll realise I've been snooping around his things. He already knows I'm nosy, but this is crossing a line. I opened that drawer after he specifically told me not to. I broke his trust."

"Right…now, you're overreacting," he said, patting her on the shoulder before turning around and heading into the back room.

Abby sighed as she watched him leave. "I wish I was," she said quietly.

She called out a quick goodbye, then, before leaving the shop. There was still about half an hour until her shift started, but she found herself heading in that direction, anyway, her mind racing from her conversation with Ollie and everything she'd read on the internet earlier.

It was all so ridiculous. Harry would probably laugh himself silly at some of the thoughts she'd been having. Ollie was right. It was most likely something to do with his work. If Harry really did have anything to hide from her, then he would never have let her into his house in the first place, surely?

That last thought made Abby pause in her step.

He never did let her into his house. Not without 'checking on the state of things'. Twice he'd used that excuse, and both times she'd walked into rooms that still had stuff strewn about as if he hadn't even bothered to tidy up in the first place. Not that she ever minded, of course. But what if it really was just that: an excuse.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her heartbeat quickening at the thought.

Was he hiding something from her?

"Abby? Hey…Abby!"

Her head snapped up at the sound.

With some surprise, she found herself standing outside the café with Maggie poking her head out the door trying to get her attention.

"Oh, thank goodness," Maggie said. "I thought you were a mirage."

Abby put on a smile as she walked over to her. "What's up?"

"Okay, so I know your shift doesn't start for a bit, but do you think you could cover for me?" Maggie asked, already taking off her apron. "It's just that…well, my boyfriend had something planned for us and I still have to go out and buy an outfit to wear. I think this might be the night that he, you know, pops the question and all."

Abby's smile widened. "Of course," she said, nodding her head. "That's fantastic, Mags. Congratulations!"

Maggie flushed, a shy grin forming on her face. "Well, I don't know for sure, but…you know."

"Oh, I have a good feeling," Abby said confidently. "Go on, then. I got you covered."

"You're a star,  _thank you,_ " she said, giving her a quick hug. "Oh! And while I have you here—do you think you can take my shift on the 31st as well? I'll trade you for the 30th."

Abby hesitated for a moment. "Er…next Saturday, you mean?"

She nodded.

_31_ _st_ _of July…31_ _st_ _of July…why did that sound so familiar?_

"Can I get back to you on that?" Abby said. "Only…that date's ringing a bell for some reason."

Maggie's smile faltered a bit, but she nodded again nonetheless. "Of course. Just let me know, yeah?"

"I will."

The girl walked back into the shop to grab her bag, and Abby followed after her, still trying hard to recall why the 31st of July sounded like such an important date.

It wasn't until hours later—when the shop door opened and Harry walked in waving at her—that the answer finally came.

"I'm an idiot," she whispered before quickly making her way towards him.

All thoughts of potions and cauldrons momentarily slipped her mind as she skidded to a halt in front of him with a smile plastered on her face.

"Your birthday is next Saturday!" she said, placing her hands on the table to tower over him.

Harry looked surprised for a moment before his expression quickly changed. "Er…yeah," he said. "You remembered."

Abby sat down across from him. "Well, I'm not going to lie," she said. "It took me a bit to realise why I had the date carved into my brain. But then I saw you, and it just—I dunno. Clicked, I suppose."

Harry nodded. "Good."

"Why are you here, by the way?" she said, only just registering the fact. He usually only stopped by on weekends these days. "Not that I mind. I love it when I get to see you."

He gave a small half-shrug. "I don't know," he said. "I felt like seeing you, too, I guess."

"Oh…well, I'm glad," she said, her voice calm despite the fact that her insides were practically dancing. "Did you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

She nodded and then propped her chin up with her palm. "So…" she said, drawing out the word. "Got any plans for the big day, then?"

"What big day?" he said.

Abby scoffed. "Your birthday, Harry," she said. "You're turning thirty. That's definitely an important one."

"Oh…right. Yeah, I suppose I have plans," he said, picking up a sugar packet and twirling it around in his fingers. "Nothing big, really. Just dinner with the family. Well…my in-laws."

She stared at him for a moment, wondering why he seemed to be avoiding her eyes. "Well, that sounds nice," she said with an encouraging smile.

He didn't respond.

"Or…not?"

Harry tossed the sugar packet back onto the table and sighed. "Look, I would invite you, but…"

Abby's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "No! No please, it's totally fine," she said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I was only curious. Honestly…it's not like I was vying for an invitation."

He let out a sniff of amusement. "I know. It's not about you asking, it's just…well, I do want you there," he said, looking up at her. "It'd be nice for you to meet everyone, and I'm sure you'd have a great time."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he kept going.

"But, you know, I figured you'd be busy," he said, shifting in his seat. "And anyway, they live in Devon. That's about—what, three hours away? I couldn't make you travel all the way out there just for me."

"Harry—"

"Maybe we could do something another time? Or better yet, we can just forget about it all together. I never cared much for my birthday, anyway. It's really everyone else making a huge deal out of it. I'd be happy just to—"

"Harry, please," Abby said, grabbing onto his arm. "Stop talking."

They stared at each other for a moment before Harry cracked a smile and they both broke out into laughter.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing a hand over the side of his face.

"Don't be," she said with a grin. "That felt quite good."

"The laughing or the telling me to shut up?"

"Both," she said with a shrug. "So go on, then. Why are you so stressed about this?"

Harry sat back in his chair and picked up the sugar packet once more. "It's…kind of hard to explain," he said.

"But you don't have to," Abby said, leaning forward. "Look, I understand if you don't want me there. It's your family. You probably just want to spend some time together."

"We spend enough time together, trust me," Harry said quietly.

Abby let out a small sigh. "Well, whatever the reason, it doesn't matter," she said. "All I want to know is why you're feeling guilty about this when you shouldn't have to."

He didn't say anything for a moment, so Abby just sat there watching him in silence. She was regretting mentioning any of this in the first place. He would have told her about his birthday if he'd wanted to, and he clearly didn't want to.

"They were hoping you'd come."

Abby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Who?"

Harry shrugged. "Everyone," he said. "Well, mostly my mother-in-law. And Hermione."

"They…want me to come?" she said, feeling a nervous fluttery feeling in her stomach.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking down at his fingers. "I guess I've mentioned you a couple of times, and now they want to meet you."

"Oh…"

Silence descended upon them once more, and it was definitely not the comfortable kind. Several times Abby opened her mouth to say something, but nothing was coming out. She just didn't understand what was wrong. If his family wanted her there, and  _he_ wanted her there, then…

"I mean, I wouldn't mind driving to Devon, if that's the problem," Abby said slowly. "I don't have a car, but I could always go by bus or train. Or just borrow someone else's. I'm sure Ollie wouldn't mind if I begged him enough."

Harry rested his forehead against his hand and stared down at the table, looking as if he were thinking extremely hard about something. She wasn't even sure if he'd heard her.

"Or," Abby said, putting extra emphasis on the word, "I could just not come. Because that's always an option, as well."

He let out a small, almost inaudible groan as he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "No, it's fine, just… stop by my house the day of, and we can go together," he said, looking as if the words were causing him some difficulty.

Abby's eyes widened in surprise. She felt a small burst of excitement that lasted for about a second before she took in Harry's appearance and the troubled look on his face. And just like that, the excitement seemed to evaporate entirely, leaving an unpleasant feeling in its wake. It was like something cold in the pit of her stomach, and it made her feel very wrong.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, it's all right. Maybe another time."

Harry lifted his head up and gave her a confused look. "What? Why?"

She took in a deep breath, trying her best to ignore the voice in her head that was screaming at her to let all of this go. To just accept Harry's invitation, and be happy about it.

"Because—because you wouldn't have invited me if I hadn't brought it up," she said, feeling her pulse beating in her ears. "And that's fine, that doesn't bother me. But don't go lying, saying you want me there when you don't. I can see that it makes you uncomfortable, and you're practically forcing yourself to even consider it. And you know what, Harry? I'm a lot of things, but I'm not desperate. So,  _please_ …just forget about it."

Abby stood up abruptly and rushed towards the back counter, not daring to look back lest she see his face. She was already feeling ridiculous about her outburst, and the words kept replaying in her head as if trying to mock her.

_Not desperate? That's a laugh._

_What's next? Not pathetic, not annoying, not an idiot?_

Abby closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head, trying hard to clear her mind. She busied herself with refilling the coffee maker and prayed that a new customer would enter the shop so she wouldn't have to see Harry's most likely empty table and let more unpleasant thoughts take over.

She'd done the right thing, after all. No matter what her foolish mind was telling her. It was a matter of dignity, something she didn't have a lot of on a daily basis. But she wanted it with Harry. She needed it.

The sound of a throat clearing snapped Abby out of her thoughts, and she turned around to find Harry standing there in front of her.

His expression was drawn and his eyes looked tired. And she could feel the guilt already bubbling in her gut at the sight, but she forcefully tamped it down.

"You're mad at me," Harry said.

Abby stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry? And that I really do want you there," he said, edging closer to the counter. "That wasn't a lie, you know."

She glanced down at her fingers and sighed. "Then why did it feel like one?"

"Because…"

"What?" she said, looking up at him when he didn't continue.

"Because it's a complicated situation," he said, lowering his voice. "And there are things that I have to explain to you. But I can't…not yet."

"Soon," he added, giving her an apologetic look.

Abby hated the small sense of doubt that was growing inside of her. But thoughts from earlier that morning were rushing back and clouding her mind, and she just didn't know what to think anymore.

What sort of complicated situation would make it so hard for him to invite her over? Especially since his family was hoping to meet her, as he so claimed. Had he lied to them about her or something? Made her out to be somebody she wasn't? It didn't seem likely considering Hermione and Ron had already met her.

She just felt so confused by the entire conversation that it was starting to make her head hurt. And the only explanation she could find for any of this was that—

"You're hiding something from me, aren't you," she said, the words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Something important."

"What?" Harry said, immediately straightening up. "Why would you think that?"

She shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did have a feeling that there was something very important about the things hidden in Harry's house. He just didn't need to know that she was aware of them. Not yet, anyway.

If he could keep secrets, so could she.

"Just tell me one thing," she said, her stomach twisting nervously. "Is it bad? Whatever it is that you're hiding?"

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she cut him off. "Just tell me," she said. "Please."

Harry stared at her, breathing heavily through his nose for a moment before shaking his head. "No," he said. "It's not bad."

Abby felt a small rush of relief at his words, which she knew was silly considering he could very well be lying to her. But somehow, it just didn't feel like he was. And she decided to hold on to that small shred of hope while it lasted.

"Okay," she said with a nod, despite her burning desire to find out more. "Then, I suppose we're—you know—fine."

Harry looked like he was about to say something, but then changed his mind. "So, will I see you next Saturday?" he asked, instead. "I'm sorry I didn't invite you before. But it is still a week away…I might've gotten around to it."

He smiled at her hopefully, and Abby couldn't help but smile back. "Sure," she said. "I wouldn't miss your birthday. Or the chance to buy you a present which I would've done either way, just so you know. Any hints as to what you want? I imagine you'll be hard to shop for, but I always like a challenge..."

The look on Harry's face made her pause. His mouth was tugged up in amusement and something about his expression just seemed to radiate warmth.

"What is it?" she said.

"Nothing," he said with shake of his head. "I'm just glad you're not mad at me anymore."

Abby gave him another smile, pushing all her errant thoughts away for now. "Me, too," she said. "It only lasted for about three minutes, but it still felt weird. Not like I could ever stay mad at you for long, anyhow."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" Harry asked with one eyebrow raised.

She leaned her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her hands. "Cause those green eyes would just melt my resolve into a puddle of goo," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

Harry let out a small laugh and shook his head. "You're so weird," he said. "Beyond weird. Absolutely mental. I hope you know that."

Abby grinned as she looked up at him, loving the way his eyes danced with mirth. And she couldn't help but wonder what he would say if he only knew.

* * *

It was Saturday, the thirty-first.

His birthday.

His thirtieth birthday.

Thirty years he'd been living on this earth.

The number flashed in Harry's mind repeatedly as he sat on the edge of his bed and gazed at the floor.

Ron had had his first existential crisis at thirty. Hermione had felt an inexplicable sense of excitement and liberation at thirty.

As for Harry, well…it just felt like another Saturday.

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed before getting up and walking to the bathroom to have a shower. He was alone in the house, having sent the kids to the Burrow the night before so they wouldn't have to travel with him and Abby on the three hour train ride to Devon.

The thought of it made him groan aloud as he rested the back of his head against the door in defeat. Besides the fact that he hadn't travelled anywhere for that long since going to Hogwarts, he would also be forced to undergo three hours of Abby giving him her indiscreet suspicious looks.

He'd seen her twice since the day he'd invited her to the Burrow, and both times he could sense something a bit off between them. During random moments, she'd glance at him when she thought he wouldn't notice, and there'd be this look of uncertainty on her face, as if she didn't trust him. And every time it happened, those words would ring in his ears:

_"_ _You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"_

How could she know? How could she possibly know that he was hiding anything from her? Sure, there was the whole floo and wand incident and the kids saying things from time to time. But there was no way she could string anything together from that.

Could she?

Harry shook his head to clear it and stepped into the shower, already dreading what the rest of the day would bring. After all, if his efforts at concealing magic in his own house had been unsuccessful, then there really was no hope for the Burrow. And it wouldn't be his fault in the slightest. That blame would all go to Hermione.

The thought made Harry grin with satisfaction as he continued the rest of his shower in peace.

After drying off and getting dressed, he made his way downstairs to have some breakfast. As soon as he sat down with a piece of toast in his mouth, however, the sound of the floo roaring to life in the next room met his ears.

"Harry? Harry, are you there?" called Molly's voice.

"Coming," he called back, setting his toast down and making his way into the sitting room.

Molly greeted him with a smile as he approached, her face dancing in the green flames. "Do you mind if I pop on over?"

"Not at all."

She emerged from the fireplace a moment later, carrying a wrapped box in her arms which she quickly deposited on the table. "Happy birthday, dear," she said, pulling him in for a warm embrace and rubbing his back affectionately.

"Thanks, Molly," he said with a smile.

She placed a hand against his cheek, looking him over with wistful eyes. "Thirty years old," she said. "Merlin, how the time flies…Just yesterday you were that lost little boy on the platform."

Harry sniffed in amusement.

"And now you're  _thirty_ ," she said, with a shake of her head.

"Well, blimey, it's not that old," Harry exclaimed, earning a small chuckle from her like he'd hoped.

She sighed then, absentmindedly flattening a strand of his hair with her fingers. "You know you'll always be that little boy to me."

Harry stared at her for a moment, his insides tingling with warmth. "I love you, Molly."

He'd said it numerous times before, but he knew she never tired of hearing it. And indeed, she quickly wrapped her arms around him once more and squeezed tightly, muttering an 'I love you too, dear' into his shoulder.

"What's that you've got there, then?" Harry asked when she let go.

She turned around to see what he was referring to and let a small 'ah' as she summoned the box towards her. "Just a little something I thought you could use for tonight," she said.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

Every year, on his request, Molly gifted him with a week's supply of his favourite pudding. It was a simple, no-nonsense arrangement that he happened to enjoy very much. And if it were up to him, he would've continued that tradition for many years to come.

"Well, go on," Molly said, handing it over to him.

Harry stared at the gold wrapping paper warily before ripping it off and opening up the thin box.

"Clothes?" he said, pulling out a thin green jumper and staring at it. There were other things underneath, as well. A pair of khakis, a nice shirt, even some socks. "Er…I appreciate the gesture, but…when exactly will I need to wear muggle clothes?"

Molly tutted softly. "You wear them all the time when you're out in London."

"Nothing this fancy," he said, rubbing the soft material of the jumper between his fingers.

"Well, this," she said, taking the jumper from him and placing it against his chest, "is for tonight. I thought you could do with something nice to wear what with your friend coming and all."

Understanding dawned on him then, and he let out an exasperated sigh. Of course this was about Abby. It was all Molly could talk about at dinner last Sunday, warning everyone repeatedly that they had to be on their best behaviour. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Especially when Angelina asked if the two of them were dating which caused several heads to snap in his direction. The images of Bill's jaw tightening and Arthur's thoughtful frown were still burned in his mind's eye.

"She doesn't care what I wear," Harry said, moving the jumper away from him. "Just go ahead and return all this, I won't need it."

"I most certainly will not!" Molly said, placing her hands on her hips. "Audrey spent a lot of time picking out these clothes for you, and I—"

" _Audrey?_ " he exclaimed. "Oh, this just gets better…"

Molly clicked her tongue impatiently. "She's a muggle-born, Harry. I figured she'd know what to choose for you," she said. "Now, don't go making a fuss, she's your sister-in-law."

That knowledge didn't make him feel any better. He'd barely ever had a real conversation with Audrey, and now she was going around shopping for him?

"Good thing she went with the green," Molly mused, examining the jumper. "The colour will look lovely on you, dear."

Harry clenched his jaw. "Yeah, I'm so glad Audrey knows what looks lovely on me," he said, taking it from her and stuffing it back in the box. "Can I go eat my breakfast now?"

"Well, you'll need to try everything on, first," she said, as if he were being daft. "I might have to make some adjustments."

"I know the charm, I'll do it myself," he said, tossing the box on the couch. "And please make sure nobody else floos in with any other surprises. Abby'll be here in a couple of hours."

Molly exhaled loudly. "Fine, but I expect to see you in these clothes later. It would be awfully rude of you to not accept my gift."

She grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the grate, giving him one last stern look.

"I would've preferred the pudding!" Harry said as she called out her destination and flooed away.

Harry scowled at the empty fireplace for a moment before picking up the box and heading back upstairs. He grudgingly changed into the new clothes, hoping everything fit right so he wouldn't have to fumble his way through any alteration charms. His ability in that area had been exaggerated, to say the least.

Once he was finished, he opened the wardrobe door and did a quick once over in the mirror. "Great," he said with a sigh as he tugged at his shirt collar. "I look like Percy."

Shaking his head, Harry shut the door and went back downstairs to finish his breakfast.

As the time for Abby's arrival drew nearer, he could begin to feel an inexplicable sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. He just knew that today was not going to go smoothly. It couldn't possibly. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. And when something inevitably did…well, what then?

Would it freak her out? Would she be scared or shocked or even angry? Would she walk away and not want anything to do with him ever again?

Harry rubbed his face and then stood up abruptly. He walked into the sitting room, glancing around to make sure everything was in order one last time before taking a seat on the couch and staring up at the ceiling in silence. He cleared his mind of all thoughts, preferring for the moment to just sit there and do absolutely nothing. And as each second slowly ticked away, he could feel his eyes begin to grow heavier and heavier and heavier…

It was the sound of the doorbell ringing that finally snapped Harry awake. He sat up groggily and looked around the room, unsure when exactly he'd managed to fall asleep.

As he got up to answer the door, he caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror and stopped. "Bloody hell," he muttered, trying to flatten his hair which had gone up in complete disarray during his nap. He also did a quick breath check and grimaced before summoning a tin of mints from upstairs and popping one into his mouth.

After feeling satisfied that he both looked and smelled okay, Harry finally opened the door.

"Happy birthday!" Abby practically shouted, jumping into his arms and squeezing him within an inch of his life.

He got a bunch of her hair caught in his mouth, and a strong whiff of it reached his nostrils as he brought a hand up to brush it aside. It was quite pleasant—a bit like vanilla or something sweet.

"Wow, you look nice," Abby said, letting him go and placing a hand against the material of his jumper. "It's so soft…and green…"

"Er…thanks," Harry said. "Gift from my mother-in-law."

Abby smiled, before clearing her throat and letting her hand fall back to her side.

"You look nice, too," he said, gesturing towards her.

She was wearing a sundress that came down around her knees, and his eyes flitted there for a second, vaguely registering the fact that he'd never actually seen her legs before.

They were pretty nice, too. As legs went, he supposed.

_What the hell?_

"Thank you," Abby said with a shy smile. "So…er…"

"Come in," Harry said, realising he'd yet to move out of the way.

She picked up a wrapped box from the ground and followed him inside to the sitting room. Just as she was about to sit down, however, Harry heard the unmistakable neigh of Lily's toy unicorn emanating from somewhere within the couch. Getting up quickly, he dug his hand in and pulled it from behind the cushion before it could make its own escape.

"Oops, that would've been painful," Abby said.

Harry placed it next to him, discreetly trying to hide it with his own cushion in case it decided to make any sudden movements. "She's always stuffing things in random places."

"I can't imagine why," Abby said in amusement as she stared at the unicorn's hair which was now poking out next to him.

Harry gave a weak laugh, and then decided to change the subject. "So…can I open my present, now?" he said, nodding towards the bright red box in her arms.

Abby raised an eyebrow at him. "You're awfully impatient for someone who made me promise not to buy him anything."

"I was being polite," he said with a shrug.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "Well, go on," she said, carefully handing the box over to him. "It's nothing mind-blowing, really, but…"

Harry ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a plain white box which upon being opened, released a most wonderfully delicious scent that travelled upwards to his nostrils. "Treacle tart?" he said, his mouth practically watering at the sight.

"Not just any treacle tart," Abby said. "It's from one of the most top-rated bakeries in London. I did my research."

He looked up at her and grinned. "You're brilliant, you are."

Abby blushed, seeming rather pleased. "So, you like it?" she said. "I mean, I wasn't sure what to get you, but…I know it's your favourite pudding. And who doesn't want pudding for their birthday?"

"Exactly! Thank you," Harry said, nodding in agreement. "It's perfect. I'm going to go put it in the kitchen, do you want anything?"

She shook her head.

After depositing the tart on the table and stealing a small bite off the edge, Harry returned to the sitting room to find Abby peering closely at something on the couch next to her. And when he came nearer, he realised with some discomfort that it was Lily's unicorn.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, praying that it hadn't moved since he'd left.

Abby looked up at him in surprise. "Erm…no, I…" she said, shaking her head. "No."

"Okay…"

She avoided his eyes as he sat back down on the couch next to her.

"So, er…what time's the train again?" he said.

"Half past ten," she said, looking down at her watch. "We should get to the station in about forty-five minutes."

He nodded, settling back against the couch.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Abby said suddenly, sitting up straighter in her seat. "I was thinking of something on the way over here."

"What?"

"Okay, so…you know how the kids stay at their grandparent's on the weekends?" she said.

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Yes…"

"And you said how your mother-in-law watches them sometimes while you're at work?

He swallowed hard, already sensing where this was going. "Er…sometimes, yeah. But not…a lot."

Abby furrowed her eyebrows, looking deep in thought. "But, Harry…how on earth do you manage that if they live three hours away?" she said. "I mean, I can understand weekends, but…it just doesn't make sense."

A tense silence filled the room at that point. He could see her staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and she had that same damned expression on. Like she didn't trust him.

"Am I…mistaken about something?" she said.

He didn't respond.

"Or is it just too complicated for me to understand?" she said quietly.

"Abby—"

"Kind of like how you didn't want to invite me today," she said. "That was complicated, as well, wasn't it?"

"Abby, just stop—"

"Or how you're always careful before letting me into your house. Or how you hide things in your kitchen from me."

" _What?"_  Harry said, snapping his head up. "What are you on about? What  _things_?"

Her face turned bright red.

"Tell me," he said, leaning in closer.

She brushed her hair behind her ear and then clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "The drawer you told me not to open…" she said.

Understanding washed over him, and for a moment, Harry just sat there frozen with a strange mix of emotions stirring inside him. He was surprised, obviously. A part of him even relieved. But for some reason, another emotion was surging forth and overpowering all the rest. And it was like he couldn't even control it.

"You opened it," he said with a forced kind of calm. "After I told you not to."

Abby's lips parted. "It was an accident."

"Like hell it was!" Harry said, standing up suddenly. "You think I'm an idiot? That's all you know how to do, put your nose in other people's business. I can't even trust you alone in my house for five minutes before you go poking around."

"That is  _not_ true!" she said, looking truly angry for the first time since he'd known her. "I told you it was an accident. I was looking for your ruddy spoons which should've been with the rest of your utensils except they weren't because Harry doesn't like to do things the simple way. No, everything's got to be  _complicated_  with you!"

"Don't you start on that again," he hissed.

"I opened that stupid drawer—again, by accident—and did I look around a bit? Sure," she said, paying him no mind. "How could I not when it was filled to the brim with bottles of potions.  _Potions_ , Harry. What in the world are potions?"

He gritted his teeth. "That's none of your business," he said. "I don't owe you an explanation. I don't owe you anything!"

"YOU'RE RIGHT! You don't!" Abby said, jumping up and walking towards the door.

Harry could feel his blood pounding in his ears despite a calm, rational voice in the back of his mind asking why he was making a big deal out of this. He wanted to tell her about magic, didn't he? This was the perfect chance!

As if a switch had been turned on, Harry's mind cleared from the fog of anger, and he brought a hand up to clutch the side of his head.

What the hell was he doing?

"Abby! Abby, wait," he said, following after her.

He grabbed onto her arm to stop her.

"What do you want?" she said, her voice softer now, but filled with hurt.

He let go and shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at the ground. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know why I said those things. I was just angry because…I—look, I didn't want you to find out like this, okay?"

"Find out  _what?_ " she said with desperation. "What is it, Harry? What's so bad that you can't tell me?"

He looked back up at her eyes which seemed to be shining with unshed tears. And in that moment, he hated himself.

"I don't like feeling like I don't know you," she said.

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "Then, come on," he said, holding out his hand. "You should probably sit down for this."

Abby's eyes widened just a fraction, but she placed her hand in his and followed him into the sitting room. She took a seat on the couch, and he sat down on the table across from her, feeling a nervous knot twisting in his gut.

"Okay, so…there's really no easy way to say this," Harry said, wiping his hands on his trousers. "So, I'm just going to say it. But…you have to promise that you'll let me explain."

"Of course," Abby whispered.

Harry nodded. "All right…okay…so, here it is," he said, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "Abby…I'm a wizard."

As soon as the words left his mouth, several things happened at once.

The floo roared to life with a flash of green flames, Teddy stumbled out and tripped over the rug, his hair flitting between three different colours as he let out a sneeze from the ashes, and Lily's toy unicorn jolted back awake from the noise and struggled to free itself from the confines of the cushion.

And Abby screamed.

Loudly.

"Er…is this a bad time?" Teddy asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Harry swore and quickly placed his hands on Abby's shoulders to try and calm her down. "You promised you'd let me explain, remember?" he said as she stared at him wide-eyed as if in shock.

"Abby?" he said, tapping her lightly on the cheek when she didn't respond. "Blink if you can hear me."

She blinked.

"What are you even doing here?" Harry hissed at the boy who was standing there watching the scene in amusement. "I thought I told you lot not to floo in unless there was an emergency."

"Must've missed the memo," Teddy said with a shrug. "I left my Fanged Frisbee here yesterday, and me and Vic were planning on starting up a game of two-a-side. If I don't bring it, she'll skin me, so…I guess that's an emergency?"

Harry tried very hard to maintain what little composure he had left. "Fine, just—just go!" he said.

"I need you to accio it for me," Teddy said. "I came by earlier to look for it, but you were kipping on the couch."

Before Harry could respond with a growl of frustration, another voice cut him off.

"He just…where did…how…"

They both snapped their heads in Abby's direction.

"Abby?" Harry said, gently. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, but still looked somewhat dazed. "I—I think I'd like you to explain now," she said in a small voice.

Harry let out a breath of relief. "Of course, right…just give me one second."

He pulled out his wand, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction when Abby's eyes widened in surprise, and then summoned the Frisbee for Teddy. The boy caught it mid-air and thanked him as he stepped back into the fireplace.

"Oh, and…happy birthday," Teddy added with a grin as he flooed away right before their eyes.

Harry turned back around then and was shocked to find Abby wiping a few tears from her face.

"Shit…are you crying?" he asked, sitting back down in front of her.

She shook her head quickly. "No! No, I—my eyes just water whenever I'm overcome by a lot of emotion."

Harry tried to hold back a smile. "That's called crying."

"Well—well, I think I have a right!" she exclaimed. "A person just popped in and out of this room _via a fireplace_  and that wand is clearly  _not_ a toy!"

"I know…I know. You have every right to—to cry, scream, to go mad," he said. "But let me just explain first."

Abby wiped a few more stray tears from her eyes and nodded. "Go on, then."

"Okay," Harry said with a sigh. "So…like I was saying before. I'm a wizard. Which means I can do magic. Real, actual magic. Not just pulling things out of a hat or whatever."

When she didn't say anything, he continued.

"I have a wand," he said, pulling it out again and showing her. "I can do spells with it."

"Like making that Frisbee fly in the air," she said, shakily.

He nodded. "Exactly," he said. "Among other things. A lot of other things."

"Like?"

Harry pointed his wand at the fireplace and muttered an  _Incendio_ causing Abby to jump as flames erupted in the grate with a gentle  _whoosh._

"Oh my God," she whispered, placing a hand against her mouth.

She shut her eyes and shook her head, as if not daring to believe the sight before her.

"Want to see something else?" Harry said, leaning forward.

"Yes."

"You have to open your eyes first."

"Okay."

Harry smiled at her as she looked up at him, and then stood up and moved away from the table. With one simple wave of his wand, the piece of furniture was transfigured into a small, white furry rabbit.

Abby let out a yelp and moved away from it. "Is it real?" she said, snapping her head up at him.

"Yep," he said, transfiguring it back into a table and sitting down in front of her once more.

"But…you can't just—I mean…you created a rabbit, and then—what, just killed it?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, it doesn't work like that. I didn't create anything. Matter can't be created, it's just...well, it's…"

"Complicated?"

Her mouth was tugged up in amusement as she said it, and Harry could feel an immediate sense of relief rush through him. "Yeah…complicated," he said, amazed that they were actually having this conversation right now. "So, tell me…what are you thinking?"

Abby shook her head and laughed. "That I've gone mad? I dunno…" she said. "Harry, this is…this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined."

He gave her a small smile. "I know."

She sniffed once, wiping at her nose, and he conjured a tissue for her causing her to giggle. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she said, taking it from him. "God…I never want to."

"Why not?"

Abby stared at him, her eyes glistening once more. "Because, Harry," she said, her voice soft. "You should never get used to incredible things."

"And this," she said. "This is—it's just  _so…"_

She shook her head rapidly before launching herself into his arms and holding him in a vice-like grip.

"Incredible?" Harry offered.

Abby let out a small sob in his shoulder and nodded.

He brought a hand up to pat her gently on the back and then glanced down, noting the wetness of her cheeks. "I really hope these are happy tears."

"They are, I promise," she said in a muffled voice.

"Okay."

"Just give me a second."

"Take all the time you need."

She shifted her head slightly and then took in a deep breath before pulling away from him. "All right," she said. "I'm ready."

"Er…for what?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously? You tell me you're a wizard, and you expect me to not ask you a billion questions?" she said. "Do you even know me?"

Harry let out a small sigh. "Right," he said, moving to sit down on the couch next to her. He figured he might as well be comfortable for this. "Go on, then."

And that was the manner in which they spent the next hour, with Harry answering every question she had about the wizarding world in as much detail as he possibly could. And although it was a bit exhausting, he found that he was enjoying it much more than he could've anticipated. Her excitement was just so raw, so palpable that for a moment, he felt as if he were eleven years old again, hearing Hagrid speak about magic for the first time.

Harry smiled at the memory, a feeling of nostalgia burning throughout his stomach like a gentle flame.

"Will I get to see those things?" Abby asked, her eyes filled with awe. "Your school and your ministry and your bank that's run by goblins?"

She let out a small laugh of delight and shook her head. "I still can't even believe this," she said. "You better not be joking, Harry. I'll never forgive you."

And just because he could, Harry fired a  _Reducto_ at a rather ugly vase that Dudley gifted him last Christmas, sending it crashing to the floor. A second later, he repaired the broken pieces and levitated it back onto the mantle, good as new.

"Show off," Abby said, though she was practically beaming.

Harry winked at her before pocketing his wand once more. "In answer to your question, though," he said, his manner turning serious. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. Not yet."

Her face fell slightly. "Oh," she said. "Erm…why?"

Harry sighed, bracing himself for another long and drawn out conversation that he knew wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable as the last.

"Well…I told you before how the Ministry's main job is to keep magic hidden from the muggle world," he said to which she nodded. "And since you're a muggle…well…I'm technically breaking a law by even telling you. If I were to take you to a place like Diagon Alley, it would be a much more serious breach."

"Wait," Abby said, looking worried all of a sudden. "Will you be in trouble for all this? For doing magic in front of me?"

He shook his head. "I'm in my home. The Ministry only tracks the use of it in public places, and even then, they mostly ignore the small-scale stuff. They're too busy looking out for criminal activity," he explained. "It's not the most reliable system, but…most of us have no desire to be found out, anyway."

Abby furrowed her eyebrows. "Why's that?"

Harry shrugged. "Lots of reasons," he said. "You get some power-hungry idiot finding out about magic, next thing you know they're taking advantage of the witch or wizard—harassing them, blackmailing them, you name it."

"Not to mention all the people out there who think magic is evil or wrong or unnatural," he added. "Better off without all that mess."

Abby gazed at a spot to his right, looking deep in thought about something. "Is that why you didn't tell me?" she said quietly. "You thought I'd be like that, too?"

"What?" he said, knitting his eyebrows together. "No! Absolutely not."

"Then…why didn't you?" she said, shifting her eyes back towards him.

Harry paused as he considered her question. "Well, I mean…it's illegal," he said.

"And yet you're telling me now," she said, a sad smile forming on her lips. "I suppose that's my fault, isn't it? I brought it up. All that talk about you hiding things from me. If I'd just kept my mouth shut…you could've kept your secret."

He shook his head. "That's not true," he said. "I've wanted to tell you for a while now."

"How long?" she said.

He opened his mouth to retort, but found himself unable to answer. "Why does it matter?" he said.

"It just does."

The conversation was heading into uncomfortable territory, and Harry wished more than anything that they could go back to simply talking about the wonders of magic. That had been enjoyable. This, on the other hand, was bordering on painful.

"The last few weeks, I guess," he mumbled.

"Weeks?" she said in a way that left the word ringing in his ears. "We've known each other for months now, nearly half a  _year_. And you've only just thought about it in the last few weeks? Did it never even cross your mind?"

Harry drew back from her in surprise. " _What?_ Of course it crossed my mind," he said, levelling her with a piercing stare. "You think this was easy for me? That I just woke up one morning and decided that I would share the biggest part of my life with you? I needed to trust you! I needed to know that you wouldn't freak out. That you wouldn't laugh in my face or—or decide never to see me again!"

He exhaled loudly and turned away from her, leaning forward against his knees. A feeling of righteous anger burned throughout his veins, but he forced himself to calm down.

"Yes…it crossed my mind," he said in a tight voice. "I know it's probably not what you want to hear. But it's true…I didn't trust you."

"And I'm sorry," he said quietly.

His words were met with silence.

Harry shifted his head just a fraction to the right to see her playing absentmindedly with her necklace. She looked troubled. Or maybe just sad.

"I do now, though," he said, straightening back up. "I have done for a while."

Abby nodded, and then glanced up at him. "I'm glad."

She didn't say it with as much feeling as she might usually have done, but Harry figured he deserved that. He knew that his words hurt her more than she was letting on.

"Can I ask you something?" she said softly.

He nodded in encouragement. "Yeah, go on."

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" she said. "I mean, after you…decided."

"Oh, well…Hermione's been trying to find a loophole in that law I told you about. She wants to make this legitimate or whatever," he said. "She's close, too. Just needs to do more research. But…I was supposed to keep my mouth shut until then."

"You didn't, though," Abby said.

"I know. I'm going to get an earful later."

She let out a small sniff of amusement. "Well…I really appreciate what she's doing," she said, looking up at him. "It's awfully nice of her."

Harry nodded. "You know…" he said, trying to inject some enthusiasm in his voice. "When she does figure it out—and Hermione will, mind you—I'll be able to show you everything. My old school, where I work, and yes…the bank that's run by goblins."

The corner of her lips lifted in a small smile. "I'd like that."

"Me, too," he said, a bit surprised by the sincerity of his words.

Silence fell between them at that point as they both got lost in their own thoughts. Harry, for his part, was mostly wondering what was going through Abby's mind. She seemed to have taken things pretty well, overall, but he figured she was probably still in too much shock to fully absorb it.

But there was another part of him, as well, masked by all the relief and excitement of the past few hours, that made him feel inexplicably anxious.

He'd opened up his world to her, and now all the boundaries he'd so carefully put into place were dissolving before his very eyes. From this moment onward, she would be a part of his life in every way. And he wasn't quite sure whether that thought was liberating or suffocating.

Harry let out a small breath of air, hoping he hadn't just made a huge mistake.

"Oh, bugger!" Abby exclaimed suddenly, causing him to snap his head up.

"What is it?" he said.

"The train, Harry. We missed it!" she said, placing a hand against her forehead. "Now, we're going to be late to your own birthday.  _Oh, bugger it all._ We've got to catch the next one, come on, let's go!"

He stared at her for a moment before slouching back against the couch and letting out a contented sigh as he rested his legs on the table in front of him.

Abby's eyes widened like saucers. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Relaxing," he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

" _Why?"_

He grinned at her and patted the seat next to him. "Because we've got three and half hours to kill," he said. "Being a wizard has got its perks, you know."

Abby stood frozen for a moment before a look of understanding passed over her face. "No way," she breathed. "But—but of  _course_ …but…how?"

"Lots of ways," Harry said, folding his arms across his chest. "You can travel by fireplace—as Teddy so gracefully demonstrated earlier. You can apparate—basically teleportation. You can portkey, fly a broomstick, ride a magical double-decker. The possibilities, as they say, are endless."

Abby's mood seemed to brighten at once. She plopped down onto the seat next to him and grabbed his arm in excitement, practically squealing in the process. "Harry?" she said.

"Yes?" he said, mocking her tone.

"Can we fly there? On a broomstick?"

His heart skipped.

Harry turned his face away from her, his jaw clenching as if by reflex.

"No," he said.

Abby seemed to sense the sudden change in him as she carefully released his arm. "Oh…okay," she said. "Maybe next time."

He stared blankly ahead of him for a moment before turning back to her and forcing a smile on his face. "Yeah…maybe," he said.

She nodded, and then another bout of silence fell upon them, this one much more awkward than the first. Harry was just starting to wonder how they were going to get through three and half hours of this when she finally spoke up again.

"So…who all is going to be there today?" Abby said brightly.

A little too brightly, he thought.

But he didn't care. She'd changed the subject, and he was more grateful for that than she could possibly know.

* * *

"All right, I'm warning you, now," Harry said, as they stood outside in the back garden. "This is going to feel really weird, and I don't—"

"Oh _, relax_ , will you?" Abby said in exasperation. "I heard you the first twelve times."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling tense. "Fine," he said. "Let's do this."

Abby beamed and took his arm.

"Hold on tight, I mean it," he said, giving her a sharp look. "I don't want you flying off somewhere over Somerset."

"Don't worry," she said, hugging his arm closer to her. "I won't let go."

He nodded and took a deep breath in. "Okay, on three," he said. "One…two…"

A second later, everything went black. Harry felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tight rubber tube as an invisible force pressed in on him from every direction. And the very next moment, they reappeared in the orchard behind the Burrow.

The sound of a grunt was the first thing he registered. He turned so see Abby collapse onto her knees, hunched over and grabbing at her stomach. And before he could look away, she vomited. Twice.

Harry grimaced. "Damn…"

Hoping that was the last of it, he crouched down next to her and moved her hair back so he could see her face. "Better?" he asked as she stared at the ground, breathing heavily.

She nodded, but didn't turn to look at him. "Can…can you do that thing where you make tissues appear?" she said, her voice sounding weak.

Harry conjured one for her, and she took it from him quickly and wiped at her mouth.

"Do you want water?" he asked, conjuring a goblet as well and filling it to the brim.

Her eyes lit up as she accepted it from him and took a sip. "Wow, it tastes…like water," she said.

"That's the idea."

She stood back up then, albeit somewhat shakily, and smiled at him. "Thanks, Harry," she said. "Erm…I don't suppose you could…"

With a wave of his wand, he cleared the mess away from the ground.

Abby sighed in wonder. "You're brilliant," she said, shaking her head.

Harry laughed. "Thanks," he said. "Now, come on. Everyone'll be waiting. And remember…not a word to anyone. They're all trying to act like muggles, and they're going to fail spectacularly, but just be cool."

"Cool," she said with a nod. "I can be cool."

He gave her a doubtful look, but didn't say anything else as they walked up the path to the Burrow. The tables and chairs were already set up in the garden, and most of the kids were outside playing.

Someone spotted them instantly, shouting "Uncle Harry's here!" at the top of their lungs. And the very next second, they were all swarming at him, hugging every inch of him they could reach.

"Happy birthday, Uncle Harry!"

"Daddy!"

"Happy birthday!"

"Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry!"

"Move—stop—ow— _Freddy—_ gerroff!"

Harry laughed happily at the sight. "All right, all right, calm down, you lot!" he said, as Hugo broke out into tears. "Now…if you want a birthday hug, you'll get one. But first…you have to follow my orders."

They all quieted down, their eyes wide in anticipation as they looked up at him.

He cleared his throat dramatically. "At _ten_ tion!" he called.

They rushed to form a line, pushing and shoving each other in the process while Harry walked past with his hands behind his back, inspecting them like soldiers.

"No talking!"

Silence.

"No smiling!"

Roxy instantly covered her mouth.

"And absolutely…no… _giggling,"_ he said, leaning down to look Louis in the eye as the boy's face turned red trying to hold back his laughter.

Harry reached out to tickle his belly and that was all it took for him to explode into little giggles. And like dominos, the rest broke as well with only James and Victoire left staring stubbornly ahead.

"Hmm…interesting," Harry said, rubbing at his chin. "Who's going to break first, I wonder?"

"Hey, Vic!" Freddy called out. "Teddy's here!"

Victoire instantly turned her head with a smile only to find that Teddy was, in fact, nowhere in sight.

"Oh, very funny!" she said, whipping her head back and scowling at the boy.

Freddy grinned. " _Victoire and Teddy sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s—"_

"SHUT IT!" she yelled, chasing after him as he bolted away from her.

Harry let out an amused chuckle before turning back to James. "Well, then," he said. "I guess we've got ourselves a winner."

James smiled and threw his arms around him. "Happy birthday, Dad."

"Thanks, kiddo," he said, kissing him on the head.

After giving everyone their hugs as promised, the kids all scattered back to their games, and Harry headed over to where Abby was leaning back against a tree, watching.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Kind of got swept away, there. Literally."

She smiled at him. "Don't worry, it was really cute."

"The kids, I mean," she added quickly.

Harry clicked his tongue. "Damn…and here I thought you were talking about me."

Abby let out a very loud laugh that took him slightly by surprise. "Good one!" said, smacking him on the arm.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Anyway…you want to head in, now?"

She seemed to instantly sober up. "Erm…yeah, okay."

He led her towards the back door of the Burrow, and then paused for a moment, feeling a strange ball of nerves in his gut.

Everyone would be there. It hadn't really dawned on him until then. They'd all be staring at him and Abby, asking questions, being nosy. And it would probably be weird and awkward and uncomfortable.

Harry closed his eyes for a second before turning his head to the side to find Abby staring up at him.

"You all right?" she said.

The easy way she'd asked the question allowed a feeling of calm to wash over him, and he nodded.

She smiled and then moved back a bit as he brought his hand up to knock on the door.

It was Molly who answered.

Harry had to hold back a laugh as he took in her long flowery skirt and pink cardigan. But he failed miserably, earning a stern look from her before she pulled him in for a hug.

Her eyes then fell to his right, and she smiled warmly as Abby stumbled forward to greet her.

"Hello, ma'am," she said.

"Oh please, dear, it's Molly," she said with a wave of her hand. "And you must be Abby. Harry's told us so much about you."

"I really haven't," he said.

Molly tutted. "Don't be rude," she said, giving him another look. "Now, come on. In, in! Everyone is very excited to meet you."

Abby grinned as they walked inside. "I like her," she whispered to him.

Harry rolled his eyes.

They followed Molly through the kitchen and into the sitting room where, indeed, every single family member bar Charlie was squeezed in on various couches and chairs.

"Erm…hello, everyone," he said with an awkward wave.

There was silence for a moment, and then:

"Who's the bird?" someone called.

He didn't need to look to know it was George.

Angelina hissed at him to shut up, but his comment, while making Abby blush scarlet, had managed to break some of the tension in the room, and Harry was at least grateful for that.

"Right, er…this is Abby, a friend of mine," he said. "Abby…this is everyone."

That was apparently all it took for the Weasley women to jump up and surround her with greetings. Hermione led the way, doing all the introductions and speaking about a mile a minute in the process.

"…and this is Audrey, Percy's wife. Percy's the one with the glasses," Hermione said, pointing him out.

"Pleasure to meet you," Audrey said.

"And this here is Fleur—"

"Bonjour."

"—married to Bill—the one over there talking to Ron. You've met Ron…"

Abby nodded.

"And that great prat is my husband, George," Angelina said.

" _Don't_ accept anything he gives you," Hermione said.

Harry chuckled quietly to himself as he watched Abby's eyes widen in fear.

Deciding that she was in relatively good hands, he moved away from the small group, having already been shoved aside by someone's sharp elbow. He glanced, instead, to where Ron was still talking in low whispers with Bill. The sight made him instantly wary, and he walked closer to hear what they were saying.

"…telling you, they're not dating."

"Yet."

"Oh, come off it! You're mental, you are," Ron hissed. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"I  _care_ because—Harry!"

Ron snapped his head up, and they both looked at him in surprise.

"Enjoying yourselves?" Harry said.

"Mate, we were just—"

"Yeah, I think it's clear what you were doing," Harry said, cutting him off. "Hey, Bill? Next time you have a question that concerns me, feel free to let me know. Or better yet…just stay out of my damn business."

Bill sighed. "Look, Harry…I don't want to start an argument," he said, his face annoyingly calm. "I was just asking Ron a question, and I got my answer. So, why don't we just let this go?"

Harry gritted teeth. "I'd be happy to," he said, before turning to look at Ron. "Can I talk to you?"

Ron nodded quickly, and he led them into the empty kitchen where they both took seats at the table.

"Listen, mate, I tried to tell him—"

"It's not about that," Harry said, waving him off. "I mean…it sort of it is, but…"

"What's up?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. "All right, I need to tell you something," he said, looking him in the eye. "But you've got to promise to keep it from Hermione. At least for now."

Ron shut his eyes and groaned. "I hate it when you do this," he said. "I really, really hate it."

"I know, I'm sorry," Harry said. "But this is important, and if Hermione finds out she'll kill me."

Ron looked back at him. "What the hell did you do?"

Harry glanced at the doorway to make sure no one was close by and then turned back towards him. "I told Abby about magic," he said.

Ron's eyes widened. "What?" he said, looking around him as if worried someone had been listening in. "You bet your arse Hermione's going to kill you. Do you know how long she and Mum have been fixing the house up for today? Not to mention all the research she's been doing for you."

"Yes, I know!" Harry said. "And I still need her help with all that. But…I just couldn't wait until then."

"Why not?" Ron said.

"Because, I just couldn't," he said. "I was lying to her, and I felt shit about it, all right?"

Ron creased his forehead but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," Harry said. "What's done is done. I just wanted to let you know."

"You don't sound too thrilled about it," Ron said, with one eyebrow raised.

Harry relaxed back against his chair. "I dunno," he said, with a shrug. "I'm just not sure how things are going to be from now on. Might be weird."

A small frown appeared on Ron's face. "Well, don't stress too much, mate," he said. "I'm sure you know what you're doing."

Harry looked up at him and nodded, the certainty in Ron's voice making him feel better somehow.

"But you realise I can give you maybe like three days," Ron said. "Hermione'll see right through me, and you know how I crack."

"Regrettably," Harry said. "But whatever, I'll take three days of peace if I can get it."

Ron sighed as he settled back in his chair. "Blimey…I never would've thought…"

"What?"

He shrugged. "Just…you and her, I mean…you're close."

Harry gazed at a scratch on the table and nodded.

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you, Harry?" Ron said, his voice growing serious. "If you two…you know, got together."

"It's not like that with us," Harry said, glancing up at him. "We're just friends."

"I know," Ron said. "But if you did…you'd tell me, yeah?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

The thought of Abby and him being in a relationship was uncomfortable enough without having to consider how he would explain it to the rest of the family. He knew that the Weasleys didn't expect him to be alone forever, but surely they wouldn't be pleased about him being with another woman? Hadn't Bill just been worrying over this very same thing? And what would Arthur say? Or George or Percy or Charlie?

God, Charlie…

He didn't even want to think about that confrontation.

But what about Ron? His best mate, his brother. The one who'd put up with his crap for all these years and was still standing by his side. If he couldn't tell Ron, then who the hell could he tell?

Harry exhaled loudly. "Look, if that were to happen—and I'm fairly confident it won't," he said. "Then…yeah, I'd tell you. Of course, I would."

Ron's shoulders seemed to relax. "Good."

Harry nodded. "Anyway…we should probably get back in there," he said. "I think Hermione's starting to scare Abby."

Ron chuckled as he stood up and walked towards the sitting room. Before Harry could follow after him, however, the back door swung open, revealing a heavily vexed looking Andromeda dragging Teddy in by the arm.

"Will you relax, woman?" Teddy said, trying to pull away.

"Oh, good! Here he is," she said, ignoring the boy as she spotted Harry. "Now,  _apologise!"_

Teddy rolled his eyes.

"Er…what's going on?" Harry asked, looking between them.

"He told me what happened," Andi said. "Flooing into your house when he knew he wasn't to go anywhere near it! And for what? A blasted toy! You could've been  _seen_ —"

Teddy quickly glanced up at Harry, his eyes wide and pleading as he shook his head just a fraction.

"— could've gotten Harry into trouble, caused an innocent woman to be obliviated! Not to mention—"

"Andi," Harry said, holding a hand up. "It's fine, really. Accidents happen. And there was no harm done, right Ted?"

Teddy gave him a grateful look. "Right."

The woman huffed loudly. "Be that as it may," she said. "I hope, for your own sake, that you've learnt your lesson. Now, apologise!"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Teddy said, his voice filled with sincerity.

He smiled at him. "Don't worry about it," he said, ruffling up his bright green hair. "Now get out of here. I'm sure Victoire's waiting for you."

Teddy didn't need telling twice as he all but sprinted out the back door.

Andi sighed and shook her head before turning back to him with an expectant look on her face. "All right, then, where is she?" she said. "Amy, is it?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean, Abby?"

"Sure."

"Er…in there," he said, nodding towards the sitting room. "Just getting introduced to everyone."

"Right," Andi said, picking up her skirt and walking briskly towards the room.

"Whoa," Harry said, following after her. "Hold on. What's with your face?"

"What on earth do you mean?" she said.

"You've got the whole 'Ancient and Most Noble House of Black' look on," he said. "What's up with that?"

Andi pursed her lips in a thin line. "I need to be objective in order to assess a potential love interest of yours," she said. "That's 'what's up', Harry."

He stared at her as if she'd gone mad. "Potential love interest?" he said. "We're nothing more than friends."

"You say that now," she said, patting him on the arm. "But it's often the closest of friends that become the most passionate of lovers."

His mouth fell open in shock.

Andi turned on her heel, then and walked into the sitting room, leaving Harry no choice but to follow after her. He immediately noticed that the crowd around Abby seemed to have dispersed, and she was left sitting between Hermione and George, the latter of which was in the middle of telling some story that involved a lot of hand motions.

Harry laughed as Abby recoiled from a particularly wide gesture that nearly caught her in the nose.

"Oh, look, Harry's here," Hermione said, pulling George unceremoniously from the couch to make room for him.

"Actually, I was thinking we could go outside," Harry said, offering a smile to Abby who looked pleased to see him.

"Ooh, good idea. Everyone!" Hermione said loudly as she stood up. "We're moving outside."

Harry paused. "Erm, okay…we didn't need to make an announcement."

But his words were lost amongst the sudden shuffle to leave the room.

"Grab something from the kitchen on your way out!" Molly called over the noise. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Since they couldn't use their wands, it took much longer than usual to get the table set. By the time they'd all settled into their seats, the food was in desperate need of a heating charm, and Harry could see Molly discreetly waving her wand over each dish. He made a point of showing Abby the flower beds behind them, so she could get the plates in front of them, as well.

"All right, you lot," Molly said once she'd finally sat down. "Tuck in!"

Abby gazed at the table in awe, looking a bit overwhelmed by all the dishes in front of her. And in her brief moment of hesitation, Molly swooped down to pile mountains of food onto her plate.

Andromeda, who had chosen the seat across from them, stuck out her hand in greeting just as Abby took her first bite.

"I don't believe we've met."

Abby audibly gulped down her mouthful of potatoes. "Erm, no. I'm Abby," she said, shaking her hand.

"So, I've heard," Andi said, staring at her for a moment. "Andromeda Tonks."

"Teddy's grandmother," Harry told her.

Abby smiled brightly. "Oh, I've met Teddy!" she said. "He's a great kid."

"I know."

Harry stared between the two of them warily.

"So…tell me about yourself," Andi said, steepling her hands in front of her. "Harry has been rather tight-lipped about you. Any idea why that might be?"

"Er...no?" Abby said, staring at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I see," she said. "Well, then…what is it that you do?"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Can we do this later?"

Andi gave him a stern look. "Let the girl speak," she said, before turning back to face Abby. "Go on."

"Er…well, I'm a waitress," Abby said. "I work in a small café in London. That's where I met Harry."

"A waitress?"

Harry didn't like the look that crossed the older woman's face.

"She plays piano. Professionally. Went to school for it and everything," he said.

Andi shifted her gaze towards him and raised an eyebrow.

"Not that…there's anything wrong with being a waitress," he added.

He met Abby's eyes, and she gave him a small smile.

"Hmm…very well, then," Andi said.

And with that, she ended the conversation and turned to talk with Molly, instead.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Was this her idea of 'assessing' Abby? If so, she was doing a rubbish job of it.

He shook his head of the thought. "So," he said. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Abby looked up at him and smiled. "Of course," she said. "Everyone's been great, honestly. Hermione and Angelina and George…"

She let out a sniff of amusement as if remembering something.

"And well, everyone, really," she said with a shrug. "I just wish I could remember all their names, I feel terrible."

Harry grinned. "Don't worry, that'll come with time."

She nodded as she pushed the peas to the side of her plate. "You've got an amazing family, Harry," she said, twirling her fork between her fingers. "Funny and generous and kind…"

"And so full of love," she said, looking at something behind him.

He turned his head to find Molly walking out of the house with a large cake in her arms. A bunch of the kids followed after her, wearing party hats and blowing on little horns. Lily ran up and pounced on his lap while Al wrestled a hat onto his head, the elastic string hitting him a bit painfully on the neck.

And then everyone sang, much to his dismay. But he couldn't stop them if he tried. Because birthdays at the Burrow were never a casual affair, and deep down, even he couldn't deny that he loved it. Every second.

But he wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

When the song finally ended, everyone shouted at him to blow out the candles and make a wish, but Lily and Hugo beat him to the punch.

"Hugo Weasley!" Hermione hissed, picking the boy up as he stuffed a hand into the cake. "Honestly, it's as if you've been raised by wolves!"

"Nah, just raised by Ron," George said. "The lesser of two evils, though."

Harry laughed along with the others, while Ron gave George a rude hand gesture behind their mother's back.

"Here you go, Harry, dear," Molly said, handing him a large piece of cake. "And one for Abby, as well. There you are."

Harry caught Abby's eye as everyone around them busied themselves with passing plates of cake and utensils to one another while the kids ran back and forth putting icing on each other's noses and squealing with laughter.

Abby looked around at all of it, as if drinking in the sight. And when she shifted her gaze back towards him, she smiled. But it was a strange smile. The kind where the eyes didn't quite match the rest of the face—as though she were happy, yet sad at the same time.

But it was impossible. Because the very next second she was laughing along with everyone else at something Angelina said.

And Harry wondered if, for a moment, he'd simply seen too much of himself in her.


	23. Chapter 23

Abby glanced at the calendar out of the corner of her eye as she poured herself a bowl of cereal.

It was August already. The thought made her stomach clench.

She sat down at the table with her back facing the wall so she could eat her breakfast in peace, but it was no use. The date had already been seared into her brain.

The sound of Clara entering the kitchen came as a welcome distraction, and Abby looked up at her with a smile. "Morning," she said.

Clara nodded in response.

That was the extent of their conversation until Abby raised her head once more. "Will you be home around two?"

"Why?" she asked, sticking a piece of bread in the toaster.

"There's a guy coming to see about the blocked drain in the bathroom," Abby said. "Shouldn't be too long."

Clara clicked her tongue. "Well, where will you be?" she said. "I thought you were off today."

"I am," Abby said. She considered lying and saying she'd picked up a shift, but she just didn't have the heart for it. "I'm going to see Harry."

"That's why I've got to stay in? Cause you're off running around with a bloke?"

 _Bit annoying that, isn't it?_  Abby thought as she clenched her hand under the table. "Can you just do it, please?" she said, aloud. "I don't really ask much of you."

"Whatever," Clara said, brushing her off. "Go on and have a nice shag, then."

Abby rolled her eyes as she got up from the table. "Yeah, I'm going over to his house at 10 A.M. to shag him," she said, placing her bowl in the sink.

"Well, I dunno what you get off on—"

"Goodbye, Clara," she said, exiting the kitchen before the girl could respond.

Grabbing her bag off the couch, Abby quickly made her way downstairs and out the door. When she stepped outside, she noted with some dismay that it was a rather gloomy day out. Grey clouds were blocking any ray of sun, and a light rain was making the air thick with moisture.

It was August. Summer was nearly over.

The rain picked up halfway through her walk to the bus-stop, but she didn't bother running. People around her rushed past, some bumping into her with half-hearted apologies, and others not bothering with one at all. But she kept her pace. She liked to give into the rain sometimes. To let it pelt against her body without a care. It was liberating.

Or stupid.

One or the other.

By the time Abby got on the bus, she was practically soaked through to the bone. Her feet squelched in her shoes as she walked towards an empty seat near the back, and the bottoms of her trousers were covered in mud. It wasn't the ideal way to show up at Harry's door—with her clothes dripping and her feet pruning and her thoughts filled with blocked drains and annoying flatmates and a host of other mundane things that were too dull to even consider.

No, it wasn't very ideal at all. But that didn't matter.

Abby leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander to much more interesting places.

This was the first time she'd be seeing Harry face-to-face since his birthday, and never before had one week stretched on for so long. There had been moments when she'd begun to wonder if it had all simply been a dream. Or a joke. Or even some giant misunderstanding. Surely any of those would be a much better explanation?

But every time those seeds of doubt starting growing in her mind, she'd just picture his face—his eyes as they pierced straight into hers.

_I'm a wizard…_

_Real, actual magic…_

_I'll show you everything…_

Abby let out a tiny breath of air before ruffling through her bag and pulling out a small, slightly waterlogged journal. She glanced around her before looking back down and smiling a secretive smile.

Taking out a pen, she scribbled the words:

_Ask about keeping dry._

She then closed the book with a snap and settled it on her lap with a contented sigh before resting her forehead back against the window.

"Harry Potter," she said in a low voice, her breath fogging up the glass. "Always full of surprises, you are."

She shut her eyes once more, letting the vibrations of the window lull her into a deep, meditative state.

* * *

The sound of hurried footsteps met Abby's ears as soon as she rang the doorbell. She waited there as the person on the other side fumbled around with the lock for a moment before yanking the door open.

Lily's face popped into view, her smile wide with excitement as she immediately threw her arms around her. "She's here, Daddy! She's here!" she yelled as Abby knelt down to hug her in return.

"Lily!" Harry said, as he stalked over towards them. "What did I just say? You wait for me to open the door."

But the girl paid him no mind as she looked up at Abby with a frown. "Why are you all wet and dirty?" she said with all the bluntness of a four-year-old.

Abby met Harry's eyes and smiled awkwardly before looking back down at her. "I forgot my umbrella," she said. "It was raining rather hard outside."

"Why did you forget it?" Lily asked, leaning her head to the side.

"Because…I didn't plan ahead very well?" she said.

"Why not?"

"Well, because I lack foresight."

"What's that?"

"Lily," Harry said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Didn't you say you wanted to show Abby your new Fiona Fairy doll? Why don't you go on and bring it down, eh?"

The girl sucked in a large breath of air as her eyes widened in delight. "Okay!" she squeaked, turning on her heel and running down the corridor.

Abby smiled in amusement as she watched her go, and then stood back up to face Harry. "Little ball of curiosity, that one."

He nodded as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Trick is to distract her. Otherwise she'll never stop."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a grin. "Adorable, though. More and more every time I see her. How is that?"

He shrugged. "Something with genetics, I think," he said. "Most people say the same about me."

Abby let out a small giggle. "And here I thought I was the only one," she said.

Her heart skipped a beat as the words left her mouth. She knew she was toeing some invisible line between them, but it felt rather good.

Harry only shook his head in response, but she could tell he was trying to hold back a smile. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Oh…erm," she said, looking down at herself. "I think I'm almost dry. I could just wait."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't be stupid," he said. "It'll be quick…like magic."

Abby instantly perked up at this. She followed after him as he led her into the house, feeling her face flush with excitement. "You meant that literally, didn't you?" she said in a low voice. "You're really going to use magic?"

He didn't answer, but she could see the corner of his mouth lifting upwards.

"Well, if you are, then good. Because I've been meaning to ask you about a couple of things," she said, digging around her bag in search of her journal. "Well…a lot of things. And I've taken to writing them all down, see."

She pulled it out and skimmed through various pages as they walked into the utility room. She could see Harry staring at her out of the corner of her eye as he leant back against the washing machine with his arms crossed.

"Ah!" she said finally, pointing to the middle of a page and bringing it over for him to see. "Right here. Number 147: 'Ask about laundry'."

Harry glanced down at the page and back up at her. "Fascinating."

Abby opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of a splash coming from behind her. "What was…?" she said, turning around.

The rest of her question died on her lips, however, as she took in the sight before her.

An old-fashioned washboard was propped up inside a large cauldron filled with boiling water. And one by one, articles of clothing were scrubbed vigorously against the metal ridges before being wrung out and tossed into another cauldron—one which, upon closer inspection, had rings of blue smoke rising from within it. It was as if invisible hands were doing all the work, or as if the very clothes themselves were alive.

Abby's journal fell to the floor as she slowly made her way over, careful not to make any sudden movements lest it all disappear. She reached out a hand to touch the shirt that was being washed, but instantly regretted it as a rush of water suddenly sprung forth from the cauldron like a tidal wave.

"Watch it," Harry said in exasperation, as she let out a shriek and stumbled backwards to avoid it.

But the water slammed up against some unseen barrier before it could reach her and then settled down at the bottom of the cauldron once again.

Abby gasped in relief as she looked up at Harry from her spot on the floor. "Why didn't you warn me?" she exclaimed. "I could've burnt my face off."

"Relax," he said. "The water turns to room temperature once it leaves the cauldron. The worst that could happen is that you'd get a little wet. I even placed a shield around you."

"How chivalrous," she said, standing back up. She let out a breath of air and shook her head. "Do all magical things attack you, or is it just limited to laundry?"

"Not all things, no."

Abby raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry," he said. "Everything in this house is safe. Or…everything that could be reached, anyway."

She wasn't exactly reassured by that, but she decided to let it go for now. "So, do you even have to do anything? With the washing, I mean," she said, picking up her journal off the floor. "Or do you just…wave your wand a bit?"

"Well, sort of, yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm not doing anything," Harry said in a mock-defensive tone.

She grinned in response. "Right, sorry," she said.

He walked over to her, taking the book out of her hands. "There's four charms all together. Three for the washing, one for the drying," he said, skimming through various pages. "But when it comes to the folding, I usually just do it manually."

"Why?"

"Because I'm shit at the charm," he said, closing the book and handing it back. "Not everyone can do every spell. It's like with anything. People are naturally gifted in certain areas and naturally rubbish in others. Magic's the same way."

Abby took a moment to consider this. All she'd seen Harry do so far was wave his wand in different motions and occasionally cause light to come out. Why some waving was more difficult than others, she didn't really understand, but she would take his word for it. At least, for now. There was a whole lot more to magic than she'd ever realised, and something was telling her that they were only just beginning to scratch the surface.

"By the way," Harry said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Only 320 questions? I'd have thought for sure you'd reach at least a thousand."

She shrugged. "Busy week," she said. "But speaking of…I'm not done here, yet."

Harry folded his arms and gestured for her to continue.

"What's with the washer and dryer?" she said. "Do you even use them?"

"They came with the house," he said. "And no, not really. Just once to check if they worked."

Abby nodded thoughtfully. "Is the magical way better, then?" she said. "I mean… I'm assuming it is, but…"

"I suppose, yeah," Harry said. "It takes less time, and—well, it's a bit more effective. Nothing shrinks or gets ruined."

She smiled as she stared at the now clean pile of clothes in the laundry basket. "Blimey," she said. "Where can I get me one of those?"

"What, a wizard?"

Abby laughed and looked up at him. "Right, stupid question," she said.

Harry gave her a small smile. "Here…take these," he said, making a t-shirt and pair of jogging bottoms zoom towards her. "The reason the water tried to attack you is because your clothes are dirty."

Abby blushed as she looked down at herself. "Oh…yeah," she said. "I'll just go and change, then."

"Toilet's on the right."

She nodded and left the room.

As expected, the clothes were a bit big on her. She had to roll the bottoms up three times from both the waist and ankles, and the shirt nearly came down to her knees. But they were so warm and comfortable and smelled so delightfully of Harry that she found herself wishing she never had to give them back.

Abby closed her eyes and took one last, long whiff of the shirt collar, before gathering up her own clothes and making her way back to the utility room.

Harry wasn't there when she walked in, but she went ahead and placed the pile on the floor near the cauldron, and then stepped away quickly, putting an arm up to protect her face.

Nothing happened.

Abby's shoulders sagged slightly. "Well, that's no fun," she muttered, walking back towards it.

She knelt down and rested her arms against the edge, staring into the depths of the murky water. "Need a charm, do you?" she said, running a finger along the washboard that only minutes ago had seemed to take on a life of its own.

"Or maybe just a wizard…"

The last thought lingered in her mind for a moment before she shook her head and stood back up.

 _I should go find Harry,_ she thought, hearing voices emanating from somewhere outside.

Abby followed the noise into the kitchen where a very muddy looking James and Al had just entered through the patio door.

"Wait, hold on!" Al said, grabbing his brother's arm. "You'll get the floor all dirty. Dad's gonna be mad."

"Well, I've got to pee, don't I?" James said, pushing him off.

He ran past Abby who was near the doorway, but then paused for a second to turn back around. "But first I think I'll take a kip in your bed," he said with a grin, before taking off down the corridor and up the stairs.

"What? No!" Al shouted, chasing right after him. "I mean it, James, don't!"

"What are you going to do about it?" James yelled over his shoulder.

Abby watched with wide-eyed horror as Al jumped onto his brother's back and tackled him to the steps, causing them both to slide down the stairs. James let out a grunt of pain as he flung out a leg to kick Al in the stomach, but the boy was holding on with a vice-like grip, his face turning red and his veins protruding from his neck.

"Stop!" Abby said, rushing towards them. " _Stop,_ both of you, you'll get hurt."

But neither of them paid her any mind as they continued wrestling each other to the floor. She was just about to try and pull Al off when another, much louder voice managed to cut through all the noise.

"Hands off each other, now!"

Both boys whipped their heads up. Harry was at the top of the landing, looking down at them furiously while Lily peeked out at the scene from behind him.

"He started it!" James exclaimed, pushing his brother off him. "He attacked me! For no good reason."

"That's not true!" Al said. "He was saying stuff, Dad. Saying he was gonna sleep in my bed."

"Yeah, but he hit me first," James said.

"Well, James kicked me in the stomach, and it still hurts."

" _Albus_  almost choked me."

"I did not!"

"He did, Dad," James said. "Just ask Abby."

"Yeah, Dad. Ask Abby!" Al repeated.

Everyone's eyes turned to her at once.

"What?" she said, feeling the back of her neck heat up.

"Tell him who started it," James said, giving her a look that she swore was meant to intimidate her.

Abby glanced away. This was one conversation she did not want to get involved in. She knew it was immature, pathetic even, but she wanted James and Al to like her. Getting them into trouble with Harry was not the best way to do that, and James, apparently, was thinking along the same lines.

_The little bugger._

She cleared her throat. "Well…the thing is—"

"I don't care who started it," Harry said, cutting her off like the beautiful man he was. "You're both going to get washed up and then come back and help me clean this mess you've made. And if I hear even a hint of a whine, then neither of you are going to the Burrow tonight. You got that?"

They both let out soft groans.

"Sorry, what?" Harry said, crossing his arms.

"Got it," James mumbled.

"Fine," Al said, as both of them started to make their way upstairs.

"For Merlin's sake, take your shoes off first," Harry said in exasperation. "Unless you both just have a deep desire to clean. In that case, walk around the entire house, for all I care."

They both hurriedly kicked off their shoes and picked them up before running back upstairs.

Harry shook his head as he made his way down towards Abby. Lily followed behind him, trying to avoid all the spots of mud by skipping over them.

"Harry…I'm sorry," Abby said right away.

He looked at her in confusion. "For what?"

"For—for not stopping them," she said. "I tried to, but it all happened so fast. One second they were talking normally and the next they were trying to kill each other. I didn't know what to do!"

He let out a small laugh. "Relax," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This sort of thing happens at least twice a day. I tried to warn you, didn't I?"

She exhaled softly and nodded. "I know, but…it was just scary," she said, picturing the scene in her mind's eye. "I thought one of them was going to get hurt."

Harry stared at her for a moment as a sad smile appeared on his face. "Yeah…that thought never really goes away," he said, letting his hand fall from her shoulder. "And it never stops being scary."

Abby furrowed her eyebrows. "No, suppose not," she said quietly as he turned away from her to walk into the kitchen.

She bit her lip in thought before following after him.

"Lily, sweetheart, can we not sit on the floor when it's all muddy?" Harry said as he grabbed something from the cupboard under the sink.

"But I'm being careful," Lily said, looking up at him. "I'm like the Crup in the story, Daddy, remember? Who 'vesigates the footprints?"

" _In_ vestigates," Harry corrected, pulling out a sponge.

Abby watched as he tapped his wand on it, causing another identical sponge to appear on top.

"Yeah, I'm doing that," Lily said, nodding.

A red bucket then zoomed into the kitchen, stopping right by Harry's elbow and nudging him as if to get his attention. He took it in his hands and made an identical copy of that, as well.

Abby blinked and shook her head. She didn't think she could ever get used to this—seeing things appearing out of thin air or coming to life. Her heart still jumped every time it happened.

"James, Al. Today, please!" Harry called as he picked Lily up off the floor.

She immediately protested, squirming in his arms to get down. "I'm not done, yet," she said. "I need to find out who the cruppit is!"

"The what?" Harry said, walking her over to the sink to wash her hands as he called out for the boys once more.

"The cruppit," she said. "You know, the bad guy."

"It's culprit, Lily," Harry said, before looking up at the ceiling. "James and Albus, get down here, now!"

"We're coming!"someone shouted back.

"No," Lily said, shaking her head. "It's cruppit. You said."

" _Crup_ is the creature. Cruppit—no—crup— _culprit—"_

Harry exhaled loudly and closed his eyes.

It seemed as good a time as any to interrupt, so Abby made her way over and smiled at the little girl. "Lily," she said. "You know, I'd love to see that doll of yours, now."

Lily's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, I forgot!" she said, drying her hands on Harry's shirt before jumping out of his arms.

She grabbed Abby's hand and led her out of the kitchen just as James and Al were approaching the doorway.

"Oh, Merlin…he's got the sponges out," James mumbled. "I thought he was joking."

Al just gave him a look.

"Abby," Lily said, pulling her attention back. They were standing outside the sitting room. "Wait in here, okay? I'll be  _right back_."

With that, the little girl raced up the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her. Abby smiled in amusement as she watched her go, and then turned to enter the sitting room for the first time that day.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed at once, her back slamming against the doorway.

The sight before her had nearly caused her heart to stop.

All the pictures on the wall were moving. Faces were blinking, staring up at her, smiling, laughing. It was as if she were being watched.

She placed a hand on her chest and exhaled, trying to calm herself down as she edged forward in order to see better.

Of all the times Abby had been in here, she'd never once looked through the pictures before. She'd noticed them, yes. Wanted to examine them closer. But something had always distracted her. Or rather…someone. But Harry wasn't in here now. Nobody was.

With that thought in mind, she paused in front of the wall, her eyes doing a quick scan of all the frames before settling on a particular one near the centre. As she leaned in closer to examine it, she couldn't help but let out a soft gasp.

It was a photograph of Harry on his wedding day.

"Whoa," she breathed.

He looked young. So incredibly young. And the smile on his face was bigger and brighter than any she'd ever seen on him before. On his arm was a beautiful girl with red hair that seemed to dance in the sunlight. And she was leaning her head against his shoulder—smiling, laughing, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek.

Abby stared at the image for what seemed a lifetime, a hundred different thoughts swirling through her mind. It was strange and sad and lovely all at once to see them standing there together, a vision of happiness. But the man staring back at her with round glasses and a perfectly clean-shaven face was not the same man she knew. Not  _her_ Harry. And she didn't know what to think about that.

Abby let out a small breath of air before forcing her gaze away to the other photographs on the wall.

Most of them were of Teddy and the kids at various stages of their lives looking too adorable for words. James with his chubby, rosy cheeks. Al with his big, green eyes. Lily with her flaming red hair and button nose.

God, Harry made beautiful children.

She smiled in amusement before coming across a picture of their mother, alone this time, sitting with her back against a large tree.

"Okay, I take that back," Abby said, watching as the girl waved at whoever was behind the camera. "They definitely got it from you."

She brought her fingers up to wipe away the light layer of dust on the glass, and then stared at it for a moment, lost in thought.

"Ginny…" she said, trying the name out. "Ginny…and Harry. Harry and Ginny. They…go rather nicely together, don't they?"

_Harry and Abby._

"No," she hissed, shutting her eyes. "Stop it."

She shook her head, feeling disgusted.

There were too many things going through her mind right now, too many thoughts that were making her uncomfortable. And a small part of herself, hidden away deep in the areas of her heart that she preferred to keep locked up, recognised the possibility that things would be very different if Ginny were still alive.

Harry would be different.

And that wasn't a possibility she liked to imagine.

Abby took a step back, placing her fingers on her temples. "No...no, I'm sorry," she whispered, glancing back up at the happy young girl sitting by the tree. "I didn't mean—"

"That's my mummy."

The voice cut through Abby's haze of guilt like a knife, and she spun around to find Lily leaning against the arm of the couch, looking up at her.

"Er…yeah, I—I know," she said, giving her a small smile.

"I never knowed her except when I was a baby, but I don't remember," Lily said, shaking her head. "She's by the stars cause she died."

Abby swallowed hard as she nodded, and then walked over to sit next to her on the couch. "My mummy's by the stars, too," she said.

Lily's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Mhm," she said, taking the girl's hand in hers. "Maybe they're friends. Just like us."

"Yeah!" Lily said with a look of excitement. "Then they can play together all day and my mummy will never get lonely."

Abby nodded again with a soft smile.

"Her birthday is really, really soon, you know," Lily added, her voice getting a bit quiet. "I hope they have a cake together because nobody ever has a cake for her. And I don't want her to be sad."

The full weight of her words hit Abby hard, and she had to glance down at her lap for a moment to avoid the girl's eyes.

"I'm sure they will," she said, squeezing Lily's hand before looking back up. "And I bet your mummy has a cake every year where she is. And balloons and presents and a big old party with all her friends."

Lily grinned widely.

"Do you know when her birthday is, love?" Abby asked.

"Erm…" Lily said, scrunching up her face. "Daddy said…one more than all my fingers."

Abby smiled. "And how many fingers do you have?"

"Ten!" she said immediately, looking proud at knowing the answer.

"And do you know what comes after ten?"

Lily nodded. "Eleven," she said, before letting out a soft gasp. "Oh, yeah! That's Mummy's birthday!"

A rush of warmth spread throughout Abby's chest as she gazed at her. "Lily…would it be all right if I hugged you?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

Abby laughed and pulled her in close, loving the way she nestled in her arms.

But the guilt from moments ago seemed to double in intensity as she stared down at the red hair that matched Ginny's so perfectly. How could she ever wish anything but for this little girl to have her mother? Nothing mattered more than that. Nothing.

She sighed and then hugged Lily closer, placing a kiss atop her head.

"You smell like my daddy."

"What?" Abby said, all other thoughts screeching to a halt. She glanced down at herself and realised that she was still in Harry's clothes. "Oh…right. I, er, borrowed some of your daddy's clothes because mine were dirty, remember?"

Lily giggled and pointed to where one of the sleeves was almost sliding off her shoulder. "They're too big."

Abby quickly adjusted the shirt. "I know," she said. "Maybe I should have borrowed your clothes, instead."

Lily shook her head, giggling even harder. "No, I'm too little!" she said.

"Well, fine," Abby said, throwing her hands up. "I guess I'll just go starkers!"

"I'll have to ask that you don't."

She snapped her head up to see Harry walking in, her folded clothes in hand and an amused look on his face.

"Oh, erm…thanks," she said, feeling herself blush as she took them from him. She was just about to get up to change when Lily grabbed her hand.

"Wait!" she said, pulling her back down. "I didn't show you my doll yet."

"You didn't?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to Lily. "Then what have you both been up to all this time, I wonder?"

"None of your business," Abby said quickly before the girl could respond. "Just girl talk, right, Lily?"

Lily nodded with an air of importance. "Yeah, it's girl talk, Daddy. And you're a boy, so you can't know."

Abby bit her lip, hoping Harry wouldn't be angry with her for being some sort of bad influence. She really didn't want to have to explain that they'd both just been talking about their dead mothers.

To her relief, though, Harry only smiled. "My apologies," he said, placing a hand on his chest. "Would you like me to leave, or…?"

She turned to Lily. "What do you think, should we let him stay?" she said, before leaning in to whisper loudly. "We don't want to hurt his feelings."

Lily sighed heavily and fell back into the couch. "Fine," she mumbled. "He can stay."

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "Oh? Can I, really? Thank you, thank you,  _thank you_!" he said, picking her up in his arms and nuzzling her neck.

The little girl squealed in surprise before breaking out into giggles. "No, it tickles!" she said, beating her legs against him and trying to push his head away.

One swift kick to Harry's stomach allowed her to break free. And then with an intense look on her face, she jumped up on the couch, bounced a few times, and body-slammed straight into him.

Harry caught her with a grunt. "Think you're tough, do you?" he growled, grabbing her legs as she hung off the arm of the couch.

"Yeah!"

"Really, really tough?"

"Really, really!"

"Then, take this, really really tough girl!" he said, picking her up and flinging her to the opposite end of the couch where she landed on Abby's lap.

"Oh my god!"

Abby looked down to make sure she wasn't hurt, but the girl was already jumping back up to pummel him again.

The sounds of their yells and laughter filled the room for a moment as they continued to wrestle each other. Harry was now using his wand to bounce cushions lightly off Lily's head. And a few of them zoomed towards Abby, as well, before she realised he was doing it on purpose.

She shook her head and grinned. "You prat," she said, throwing one straight at his face. "Don't need magic for that, do I?"

"No…but you do for this," he said, pointing his wand towards her seat.

The couch cushion underneath her was suddenly upended as if by a violent spring, and she went flying to the floor with a shriek.

" _Harry!"_

His laughter came out muffled as Lily buried his face, and Abby quickly got up and joined in as well, smacking every inch of him she could reach with cushions of her own.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Harry said, sticking his wand out to shoot red sparks. "I surrender. Please!"

Lily gave a whoop of joy and jumped into Abby's arms, causing her to stumble backwards into the table behind her with a small  _oof_.

"Girls win, boys lose. Ha!" Lily said, sticking her tongue out.

Harry leaned up on his elbows looking slightly breathless. His hair was in complete disarray and his face was flushed and sweaty.

It was one of the most enticing images Abby had ever laid eyes on.

He was in the middle of giving Lily a lecture about good sportsmanship or something of the like, but all Abby could focus on was his mouth. Or more specifically, his lips. And the tongue that darted up to lick the sheen of sweat above them.

_Oh, Christ._

She forced her eyes away, and then put Lily down so she could go sit on the couch across from them.

"And don't forget," Harry said, who was sitting up now. "No punching allowed or we don't play."

"But I didn't!" Lily argued.

"You nearly did, but I stopped you," he said. "Not again, though, right?"

Lily crossed her arms and pouted. "Right."

"Good," Harry said, kissing her forehead. "Now, go tell James and Al to stop being moody and come down here. There's lunch on the table. Yours, too."

The girl nodded and ran out of the room, leaving Abby alone with Harry—a thought that caused her heart to beat quicker.

"I guess you're not destined to meet Fiona," Harry said as he leaned back against the couch.

"Who?"

"Lily's doll," he said with smile. "She's got quite the personality."

Abby shifted her eyes to the side. "Lily…or the doll?"

Harry shrugged. "Both."

She let out a sniff of amusement. "You know, sometimes I think you're just lying," she said, shaking her head. "But then…there's nothing really hard to believe anymore, is there?"

He chuckled as he laid his head back to stare at the ceiling. "You hungry?"

"Not really."

He nodded.

Silence fell between them for a moment, during which Abby's eyes flitted over to the picture frames on the wall.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, erm…before, when you asked what me and Lily were talking about?" she said, picking at her fingernails. "Well, it was…"

Her words trailed off as Harry lifted his head back up to stare at her.

She'd wanted to bring up the topic of Ginny and the fact that her birthday was coming up, but one look in his eyes made her chicken out.

"What?" he asked.

She swallowed and shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "It was nothing important. Just…wanted to let you know that."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Okay…"

"Well, also. I wanted to apologise," she said quickly. "That whole 'girl talk' stuff. I mean…I'm not trying to undermine you or anything, it just sort of came out. It's not like I want her to keep secrets. And the last thing I want is to be a bad influence."

Harry let out a loud laugh. "Bad influence?" he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh, that's adorable."

Abby opened her mouth but seemed incapable of forming a response. She was too busy replaying his words in her head and doing internal cartwheels.

"You know," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts. "You apologise an awful lot for someone who has nothing to apologise for."

She stared at him for a moment, her mind going quiet. "How do you know I have nothing to apologise for?" she said.

"You don't," he said, his voice hard. "Not with me."

He sounded way too confident about that, but she didn't argue.

"So, do me a favour and stop stressing over every little thing," he said. "If I thought for a second that you'd be bad for my kids, then I never would've let you in this house."

She nodded. "I know," she said, shifting her eyes away from him.

"And, look…if it makes you feel any better…I like that Lily's, you know,  _liking_  being a girl," he said a bit awkwardly. "It's just been this thing for a while. James and a few of her cousins, they like to mess with her. She's a bit of a tomboy as you've probably noticed. And, well…you know how kids are."

A feeling of sadness crept over her as she thought back to the conversation she had with Lily a couple of weeks ago.

"She likes you, though. A lot," Harry said, leaning forward against his knees. "And I think that's…that's good for her."

Abby smiled to herself as she considered his words. "I like her a lot, too," she said, knowing that her feelings for the girl ran much deeper than that.

Harry nodded and then raked his hands through his hair with a sigh before leaning over to pick up a book on the table.

Abby realised it was hers as he flipped open to the first page, and she could feel herself blush thinking of all the dumb questions she'd written down that first night.

"What…is magic?" Harry read aloud, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. "What can it do? What can't it do? Where does it come from? Is 'Abracadabra' really a magic spe— _Oi!_ "

She snatched the journal from his hands.

"What did you do that for?" he said, looking up at her.

"You were imitating me," she said, crossing her arms. "Besides, you're just going to laugh, I know you."

Harry put on an affronted look. "I wasn't imitating you, I was being enthusiastic. That's just how I talk," he said. "And anyway, they're very valid questions."

Abby rolled her eyes.

"Go on," he said, tugging on the book in her arms. "We'll go through them in an orderly fashion."

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"Abby," he said in a sing-song voice, as he continued to try and pull it from her grasp.

She knew he could easily get it from her with his wand—or even without a wand—but he made no move to do so.

Instead, he fell back against the couch and looked up at her. "All right, you want to know what magic is?" he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. "It's a force of nature. A  _supernatural_  force of nature…which I realise is redundant, so let's pretend I didn't say that."

She cracked a smile.

"It's like…gravity," he said. "And…some other stuff that I don't remember. It's just there. No one knows where it came from."

She furrowed her eyebrows as she took a seat on the table behind her.

"And there's laws of nature, right? Things that must always be true. Or just…our basic reality," he said, stopping his wand between his thumb and forefinger. "But then you have magic. And it just completely destroys all of that. And things that shouldn't be allowed to happen, can happen."

"Like defying gravity," he said, pointing his wand at her journal.

It slipped from her grasp like butter and floated between them in the air.

"Does that answer your question?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

A small breath escaped her lips as she stared at the floating book as if in a daze. "I just…" she said, shaking her head. "I don't understand…how."

Harry smiled at her. "You're not meant to," he said. "It's  _magic._ It's not supposed to be logical. It's the complete opposite of logic."

She took a moment to consider those words, marvelling at how many more questions were now taking shape in her mind. "Does nobody understand it, then?" she said, looking back at him. "I mean, don't you guys have scientists or something?"

"Well, sure," Harry said. "There's people who study it and learn about its properties or predict its nature or whatever. But they're all much, much cleverer than I am."

Abby let out a light chuckle.

"Anyway, I'm really not the best person to explain all this to you," he said, handing back her journal. "I was never into the theoretical stuff."

"What were you into?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm more of a practical guy, myself," he said, resting his hands behind his head. "I mean, I'll still try answering everything, but you'd be much better off asking Hermione about all that deeper crap."

Abby was about to open her mouth to respond when something completely and utterly remarkable happened.

Harry's fireplace burst to life in green flames and none other than Hermione came stumbling out into the room with Ron in tow, the latter colliding into her back as she remained rooted to the spot.

Abby whipped back around to face Harry. "Did—did you just do that?" she exclaimed. "Can you just make people appear by calling their name?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "But how wicked was that timing?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Hello, Abby," she said as she wiped the soot off her and Ron's shoulders. "Ron, Abby's here."

"I noticed."

Before anyone could say anything else, footsteps could be heard rushing into the room, followed by the sound of the kids' excited voices.

"Who came, who came?" Lily said.

"Is Rose with you?" Al asked, his eyes wide.

James quickly glanced behind them to see if anyone else was hidden, but the two were alone.

"Ergh…it's just them," he said, turning back around. "Come on."

Al and Lily followed after, both looking put out.

"Oh, real nice, you lot!" Ron called after them. "I'm definitely feeling the love, here."

But Hermione brushed the matter off, taking a firm grip on Ron's arm and dragging him towards Abby and Harry.

"A week, then?" Harry said, as they approached. "Not bad, mate."

Ron threw him a scowl.

"Yes, a week! A whole week," Hermione said, glaring at her husband before turning back to Harry. "How many times do I have to tell you? Do  _not_ make him keep secrets from me."

Harry stared up at her, looking way too nonchalant for his own good.

"Because I always find out, Harry," she said, getting close to his face. "Oh, yes…I  _always_ find out."

Feeling like she was in the middle of crossfire, Abby slowly inched her way off the table and towards the couch opposite them. Ron was the only one who seemed to notice, and he stared at her for a moment with his forehead creased in thought.

With a jolt, she realised that he was looking at her shirt. Or rather, Harry's shirt that she'd never managed to change out of. But before she could even attempt to explain, he'd turned back around.

"Now, I didn't just come here to yell at you—"

"Oh, lovely."

"—Even though you very much deserve it," Hermione continued in a louder voice. "I came because I found a solution to your problem. And it's good that Abby's here, so we can discuss it together."

Both Harry and Abby straightened up in their seats at once.

Abby was not aware that this argument had anything to do with her until now. And as she looked between Harry and Hermione, she could feel herself growing nervous. "Erm…sorry," she said. "What exactly are we talking about?"

Everyone's eyes moved towards her.

Hermione gave her a kind smile which was such a stark contrast to the previous expression on her face that it was almost unsettling.

"Harry told you about magic," she said, sitting down next to her. "Did he explain that he was also breaking several laws?"

Abby swallowed hard. "Yeah…yeah, he mentioned that."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I've been looking for a way around that. A way to incorporate you into the Wizarding world," she said, pulling out a roll of paper. "And I think I've found it."

"What is it?" Harry said, taking the paper from her hands.

"How about you let me explain first?" Hermione said in biting voice. "Just sit down and listen. All of you."

Harry and Ron did as they were told.

Hermione then took a deep breath in and began. "The International Statute of Secrecy was enacted in 1692 in order to protect the wizarding community—"

"Hold on," Ron interrupted as he exchanged a look with Harry. "What's with the history lesson?"

If looks could kill, Abby was certain that both men would be dead by now.

"It's the foundation of everything I'm about to tell you," Hermione said. "So, if your two pea-brains can't handle sitting through five minutes of intellectual conversation, then you may as well just leave now."

Abby was secretly praying that she wouldn't be left alone as she was already having trouble following.

"Right…as I was saying," Hermione said when neither of them made any move to leave. "The law was created in order to protect wizards from muggle persecution. But even at the height of the witch-hunts, and long before it, there were still some wizards and muggles who interacted peacefully. They did business together, exchanged knowledge, fell in love, and most importantly, in our case, they shared in their artistic endeavours."

Abby was quickly realising that the rough overview Harry had given her last week was just that—incredibly rough. She had so many questions, but she would no sooner interrupt Hermione than fling herself into the Thames.

"Are you all aware of what an artistic patronage system is?" Hermione asked, looking around at them.

"A who?" Ron said.

"Erm," Abby said, raising her hand. "It's when someone…supports or commissions an artist to create something for them."

Hermione gave her a nod. "More or less," she said. "Throughout history, it was very common for wealthy, aristocratic individuals to be patrons for artists, writers, musicians and so on. And wizards—in particular, old pureblood families—were very much involved in this system, as well."

Abby raised her hand again.

"Yes?"

"Er…pureblood?" she asked.

Hermione gave Harry a look. "Seriously?"

"There was a lot to cover," he mumbled.

She pursed her lips and then turned back towards Abby. "A pureblood is someone with pure magical heritage. Meaning no muggle blood," she said. "Of course…the odds of that being completely true are very slim. But there are certain people in our world who believe themselves superior because of it."

"It's a load of crap," Ron said. "Hermione's muggle-born and she's far superior to any of those half-wits."

A tiny smile appeared on the woman's face. "Not all of them are half-wits, Ron," she said, reprimanding him lightly. "I happen to think you're very intelligent."

He shrugged, looking a bit smug. "I do have my moments, yeah."

"Can we move on before I vomit?" Harry said.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Right, erm, any other questions?"

"Yeah…sorry, what's a muggle-born?" Abby asked, wishing Harry had explained all this beforehand.

"Someone born to non-magical parents, like me," Hermione explained. "All of my family are muggles, but I just happened to inherit a dormant magical gene from one of my ancestors."

Abby stared at her in awe as she took in her words. She didn't even know that was possible.

"And then there are half-bloods, like Harry," Hermione added. "Someone with mixed heritage. The majority of the wizarding population are half-bloods these days."

All this new information was starting to make Abby's head hurt, and they hadn't even got to the point of the conversation yet.

"But anyway, back to the 17th century," Hermione said with a clap of her hands. "So…like I was saying, high-status purebloods and muggles had always been a part of the same social circles. It was an avenue for wizards to collect muggle treasures and works of art, while they, in turn, aided the aristocratic muggles with magic. But that all fell apart once the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. Wizards were forbidden from doing magic in front of muggles. But more than that, it became socially unacceptable to have any relations with them, at all."

Abby nodded to show she was listening, even though she still wasn't sure where this was going.

"And while this new law served to protect wizards from the brutal actions of muggles, some pureblood families were furious," Hermione continued. "Art, in general, was always seen as a muggle discipline. So, there weren't many magical artists, not at the professional scale."

The sound of a chuckle met Abby's ears, and she turned to see Harry shaking his head.

"Never underestimate the power of a pureblood, eh?" he said, with an ironic sort of smile.

Ron looked at him as if he were mad. "What are you on about?" he said.

"He's guessing what I'm going to say next," Hermione said with a resigned look. "And he's right."

Abby was comforted by the fact that Ron also appeared as if he had no idea what was going on.

"These pureblood wizards—and I really do hate to generalise, but that's just what they were—requested—well,  _demanded_ —that the Wizengamot make an accommodation for them," she said. "Basically, that they would be able to commission or be patron to any muggle of the arts. Mostly musicians, as that was one of the rarer skills among wizards."

Understanding was slowly dawning on Abby as she took in everything that was being said. She dared not hope, though. Not yet. There had to be a catch.

"Now, the obvious solution would have been to allow the musicians to perform, and simply Obliviate them afterwards," Hermione continued. "But the charm was new at the time. In fact, it was invented just after the Statute was signed in 1689 for the sole purpose of Obliviating muggles."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"And it was rough, as most spells are when they're initially created," she said, ignoring him. "For whatever reason, it seemed to affect musicians more adversely than other muggles. And perhaps the same would've been true for other artists, as well, but there're no written accounts about it."

"How do you mean adversely?" Harry said at once.

Hermione shifted in her seat. "Well…the first evidence of one being placed on a musician was just three weeks after the law was enacted. And apparently, the man ended up losing his basic fundamental knowledge of music, all together."

Abby couldn't help but grimace at that, causing Harry to move his eyes towards her.

"That's not going to happen to you," he said in a firm voice.

"Oh, well of course not," Hermione said, looking between them. "The charm is miles ahead today than it was back then. It was practically barbaric, to be honest."

The fact that Hermione was talking as if there were still a possibility that she'd be mind-wiped didn't exactly make Abby feel better.

"But that wasn't the solution, though, right?" Ron said. "I mean…it can't have been."

Hermione shook her head. "And purely for selfish reasons," she said. "Where would wizards get their entertainment if they destroyed the talents of every muggle? No…they couldn't have that. So, they asked for an exception. That all muggle musicians commissioned to do a live performance by a witch or wizard be protected from the Memory Charm."

If Abby's head was hurting before, it was positively aching now. Her thoughts, her feelings, everything was an utter mess. She didn't know whether to be hopeful or absolutely terrified. And the way Hermione spoke… it made her feel so very aware that she wasn't like them. She wasn't a witch or wizard. She was a muggle.

_Muggle._

_Muggle._

_Stupid word_.

_Sounds like a small creature burrowing in the dirt._

"So…in terms of the present," Hermione said, drawing Abby from her thoughts. "I'd be extremely surprised if anyone knew about this. The whole practice died out a long time ago once wizards started to take up the art of music, themselves."

Ron leaned forwards against his knees, looking from one person to the next. "Well then, it's easy, isn't it?" he said. "All Harry has to do is…commission Abby or whatever."

"Well, not exactly," Hermione said. "The law specifically states it has to be for a live performance in front of an audience. Otherwise there'd be too many muggle musicians to keep track of with wizards commissioning them for private performances left and right."

"Okay…" Ron said slowly. "Then we'll gather a bunch of people, sit them down, and have a live performance."

"Erm…"

"What now?" Harry said in frustration.

Hermione sighed. "The event  _and_ the musician both have to be Ministry-approved. But before you go biting my head off," she said quickly, holding a finger up to quiet them both down. "I have just the Ministry-approved event in mind."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Which would be?"

"One of those banquets that you love you so much," she said with a wry grin. "They have the same wizarding orchestra play at every single one. And while they don't usually use a pianist—"

"A  _what?"_ Ron said, cutting her off.

Hermione glared at him. "A  _pianist,"_ she said, enunciating clearly while Harry laughed. "Someone who plays piano."

"Oh…right."

Abby shook her head in amusement before turning back at Hermione. "What about this orchestra?" she said, wanting to get back to the situation at hand.

"Right," Hermione said. "I've personally never seen them use a piano player, but they usually take musical requests a few months beforehand. So, all we have to do is pick a piece that you're very good at, and then you can audition and get the job."

The mere mention of any possible job always made Abby's ears perk up. But this was too good to be true. A  _wizarding_  orchestra? That she could be a part of? Her insides were practically squirming with excitement.

"And what happens after that?" Harry asked. "Is it just a one-time thing, or will she be a permanent member?"

"Well, if she proves herself to be skilled enough, then I don't see why not," Hermione said. "They'll find out she's a muggle, of course, but the law's on our side there. Plus, don't you play other instruments, as well?"

She nodded. "I could double up. I'm good with percussion."

"Perfect, then you'll be an asset to them," Hermione said with a smile. "And it'll be an amazing opportunity for you. This is the premier magical orchestra of the British Isles. They travel to all sorts of places around the continent to play for wizarding audiences, and sometimes even other areas of the world, as well."

Abby let the words wash over her, exhaling softly as she considered the possibility.

Images of various performances began flashing throughout her mind's eye—the audience, the stage, the lights. And she could almost feel it, that energy of the room as the music swelled, her fingers against the keys, her heart rate speeding up and slowing down as though the very beat were inside her.

She looked at Hermione, overcome by the strongest urge to pull her in for a hug and never let go. Because this was everything, absolutely everything she could have ever dreamed of.

"And what if she doesn't get the job? What happens then?"

The words were like a bucket of ice cold water. Abby looked up to meet Harry's eyes, but he was staring firmly at Hermione.

"What happens, then?" he said with more force when she didn't answer.

Hermione's shoulders seemed to drop in defeat, and she suddenly looked very tired. "Then they'll wipe her memories," she said, staring back at him. "Anything having to do with magic."

A tense silence filled the room for a moment before Harry jumped up and shook his head. "No," he said. "No, absolutely not. Fuck that!"

"She'll still remember you and everything else," Hermione said, looking up at him. "It'll just go back to how it was before you told her."

Harry gave a humourless chuckle. "What? Go back to her being afraid of me and thinking I'm a liar?"

"I never—"

"Yes, you did!" he said, finally looking Abby in the eye. "Or do I need to remind you that you nearly walked out that door last week for the very same reason? If they wipe your memories, the same thing will happen again and again because you'll never be able to accept me keeping something from you, and you will  _always_  try to figure it out."

He then sighed heavily, dropping his head in his hands for a moment before walking over to sit next to her.

"This is fine, what we have. Showing you bits of magic here and there," he said, his voice much calmer, now. "And I can sneak you into all those places I want to show you, and I'll be careful. I promise. Just don't do this…please."

Abby licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

He was staring at her with such an intense expression on his face that she suddenly wished more than anything that they were alone. She needed to talk to him. She needed to share all the confusing thoughts that were running through her mind.

But she could feel Hermione and Ron's eyes trained on them in a way that made Abby want to think very carefully about what she had to say next.

"Harry," she said quietly. "I've been working for a chance like this since I was a kid, it's all I've ever wanted. And I know it might seem silly to you—"

"It's not—"

"But it's my whole world," she continued. "This is an opportunity that I've never had before. I  _can't_ just…not try."

His jaw clenched as he stared down at the floor.

"I know it's a huge risk, and I could lose so much that I really, really don't want to lose," she said, itching to take his hand in hers. "And…I'm sorry for being selfish—"

"You're not," he said, shaking his head. "You're not being bloody selfish, all right? And what did I tell you about apologising?"

She bit her lip as he looked back up at her.

"It's me who's being a tosser," he said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just…really liked sharing all this stuff with you…it was nice."

She gave him a small smile. "It was," she said.

"I hate to interrupt," Ron said, suddenly. "But…aren't we all being a bit dramatic, here? I mean, she could just get the job."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "Ron, let's go," she said, standing up.

"What, why?"

"Because I've said everything I had to say, and now it's time to leave Harry and Abby alone," she said, pulling him up. "Come on."

Ron muttered under his breath as he followed after her. He was about to step into the grate, but then paused for a moment and pulled out his wand.

"What are you—?"

Hermione's words were cut off as a jet of white light suddenly shot straight towards Harry's stomach, causing him to jump in shock.

"You bastard!" Harry exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"For making me lie to my wife," Ron said, scowling at him. "I hope that turns a pretty colour tomorrow."

Harry flipped him off as he disappeared into the green flames causing Hermione to click her tongue.

"You're going to get mad at  _me_?" he said with his eyebrows raised. "That hurt!"

"You deserved worse," she said, crossing her arms.

Harry just shook his head, looking too annoyed to respond.

"But anyway," Hermione said, turning towards Abby. "Before I go, I just wanted to say that…whatever you decide, I wish all the best for you."

Abby gave the woman a warm smile. "Thank you," she said. "For—for everything. Really, it means the world."

Hermione nodded. "You're more than welcome," she said, stepping into the fireplace.

And then she stood there for a moment, casting one last look at Harry, before smiling to herself and flooing away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to give a huge thanks to CaBil for helping me come up with the idea behind Hermione's whole plan, and Talimancer for being my beta on this chapter. Definitely indebted to you both!
> 
> Also, just a quick note: I have a tumblr account under the username Taliesin-19. I'm mostly using it to update on the progress of new chapters. So, if I'm ever taking too long, you can check there to see if I've posted any announcements!


	24. Chapter 24

"All set?"

Harry nodded as he dug in his pockets for some muggle money. Lily stood to his right, trying to peek over the counter as the shopkeeper wrapped up the flowers with a plastic cover.

"That'll be thirty-five pounds for the lot," she said, placing the bouquet down. "Really lovely, these. Are they for any special occasion?

_Is it any of your business?_

"No."

"It's my mummy's birthday," Lily said in a loud voice, drowning out his reply.

The shopkeeper smiled down at her. "Well, you picked out some very pretty flowers for her," she said. "I bet she's going to love—"

"Thirty-five, yeah?" Harry said, handing her the notes.

The woman glanced up at him. "Er…yes, sorry," she said. "Would you like a receipt?"

"No, thanks."

She nodded. "All right, then. Have a wonderful day," she said before looking back at Lily. "And don't you forget to wish your mummy a very happy birthday."

"I won't," Lily said, shaking her head. "We're going to see her right now. But not for real because only she can see us for real. Right, Daddy?"

Feeling the back of his neck heat up, Harry grabbed the flowers off the counter and took Lily's hand. "Let's go," he told her quietly, avoiding the woman's gaze.

They walked towards James and Al who'd been waiting near the front of the shop with bored expressions on their faces the entire time. Both boys seemed all too happy to follow Harry's lead as he ushered them quickly out of the door.

"Don't wander too far ahead," he told them as soon as they stepped outside. "I want you to stay in my line of sight, you got that?"

"Sure!" James said before he and Al set off at a run down the pavement.

Harry sighed as he watched them go, wondering why he even bothered. He knew he should call out, tell them to slow down and wait for him. But the road was empty, and he was tired. So he let it slide.

He let a lot of things slide today.

"Come on, flower," Harry said, squeezing Lily's hand in his and following after them.

The graveyard where Ginny was buried was just down the road on a big plot of land right outside Ottery St. Catchpole. It was home to generations of Weasleys, Lovegoods, Diggorys and other families, both wizarding and muggle, alike.

Harry could remember thinking, years ago, how nice it would be to be buried next to his parents. It was a rather strange thought, he knew, but it was one that had brought him great comfort. And in the back of his mind, he'd always imagined Ginny right there with him.

But that was long before her death. Long before he realised he'd have to make that decision on his own. And he just couldn't do it. He couldn't ask for her to be buried in Godric's Hollow without him. He knew nobody would've objected, but it just felt wrong to leave her there alone, waiting however many years it took for him to join her.

Here, she was with family. With Fred. With countless other Weasleys he'd never met. And though he knew none of it mattered in the end, he liked to fool himself into thinking it did.

If only for his own sanity.

Harry let out a quiet breath and shut his eyes for a moment before focusing back on his surroundings. He'd been too caught up in his thoughts to even notice that they were nearing the end of the road. And to his great annoyance, he could see James and Al on the other side already, waiting by the familiar stone archway that led into the graveyard.

"About time," James said with a smug expression as they approached. "We've been here ages."

"Don't be smart," Harry said in a sharp tone. "I tell you not to run ahead, and you do it anyway. What if there was a car?"

James rolled his eyes. "There's no one around for miles," he said. "Besides, we know how to cross the road. We're not babies."

"Not babies? You sure as hell are acting like babies when you don't listen to me," Harry said, causing Al to look away.

James, on the other hand, stared up at him in defiance. "Well, you don't listen to us sometimes. Does that make you a baby?"

"I'm your father!" Harry said, much louder than he meant to.

He felt a surge of frustration swell within him, but he exhaled loudly and shook his head.

"No…just forget it," he said, holding up a hand. "Forget it. We're not doing this right now, not here."

He turned away from them and paused for a moment to settle himself before pushing open the gate. The soft screeching of the rusted hinges cut through the thick silence that had followed his words. "Come on," he said quietly, beckoning them forward.

The sound of Lily's voice met his ears as soon as they entered. "It's Mummy's birthday, you're not 'posed to be mean," she told James, earning a quick 'shut it, Lily' in return.

James shoved his hands in his pockets and walked a bit ahead of them as they made their way through rows upon rows of old, weathered down headstones covered in mossy overgrowth and overrun by weeds and vines.

"It's just that way, isn't it, Dad?" Al said, pointing to a much neater looking area towards the back where James was already headed.

Harry nodded. "To the right."

Al set off in that direction, rushing to catch up with his brother.

"Daddy," Lily said, looking at each headstone they passed. "How do you spell mummy?"

Harry couldn't help but smile. "It's not going to say 'mummy', Lils. It's going to say her name," he said, looking down at her. "Do you remember what her full name is?"

Lily nodded. "It's Gin…Giv..." She swallowed and then tried again. "Giv...ina?"

"Ginevra," he said.

"Giveva."

"Gin-ev-ra."

"Gineva."

Harry let out a small chuckle. "Just Ginny's fine," he said, brushing a finger against her cheek. "She hated the name Ginevra, anyway."

"Really?" Lily said, looking up at him with her eyebrows raised.

"Mhm," he said, as they continued walking. "Never used to let anyone call her that besides Nana and Grandad."

Lily jumped over a fallen branch and then grabbed his hand, swinging it back and forth. "I like Ginny better, too," she said, matter-of-factly. "More than Givenina."

"I agree," he said as he led her towards James and Al who were already huddled around the grave.

He sat down next to them with Lily by his side, and for a moment, no one said anything.

"All right…who wants to say happy birthday first?" he said, looking around at them all.

Lily jumped back up at once. "Me, Daddy, me!" she said. "Can I go?"

He handed her a section of the bouquet, and she held it close to her chest before turning around and sitting on her legs in front of the headstone.

"Happy birthday, Mummy," she said, placing the flowers down.

There was a small stretch of silence before James spoke up. "That's all you're going to say?" he said.

Lily scowled at him. "No," she said in a defensive tone. She then looked back at Harry and said quietly: "What else do I say?"

He gave her a small smile. "Whatever you want," he said. "She's listening, what do you want to tell her?"

Lily seemed to think about this for a moment before turning back around. "Mummy…I hope you have lots of fun today. And…erm—oh! And I love you," she said, patting the headstone.

"Is that good?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

"It's perfect," Harry said.

She beamed and then rushed over to sit on his lap, nearly bumping her head against his chin in the process.

"Who's next?" Harry said, moving Lily's hair out of his mouth.

James glanced at his brother and then motioned his head forward. "Go on," he said.

"What—why do I have to go first?" Al said.

"Because we're saving the best for last."

"But Dad's going last."

"I meant out of us three," James said. "Dad'll be best no matter what. He's oldest. But I'm going to be second best after him."

"Says who?" Al said, looking offended.

"Look," James said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we test it out? You go next, I'll go after you, and then at the end we'll see who's better."

Al furrowed his eyebrows as he considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, all right," he said, grabbing some flowers.

James grinned to himself and moved back a bit so he was sitting next to Harry. "Sucker," he said under his breath.

"You realise it's not a competition?" Harry said, glancing down at him.

"Dad," he said, looking as if he was about to impart some great wisdom on him. "Everything is a competition if you set your mind to it."

The words were uncannily familiar. He'd heard some variation of them a thousand times over, but to hear them again from his son brought an unbidden smile to his face.

"What?" James said, looking confused.

"Nothing," Harry said, reaching up to brush the boy's fringe aside. "You just…sometimes, you remind me of her. Your mum."

James raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I do?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh," he said, smiling to himself. "Cool."

Harry wrapped an arm around James' shoulders, hugging him into his side and placing a kiss in his hair. "But just so you know," he said, looking down at him. "I still haven't forgiven you for earlier."

"Aw, don't ruin the moment, Dad," James said, squeezing him tight around the middle.

He let out a small chuckle and playfully pushed his head aside, getting extra help from Lily who all but shoved James away from them.

When Harry looked up a moment later to see what was taking Al so long, he was unsurprised to find him still in the process of organizing his flowers around the headstone.

"About ready, Al?" he said.

"Almost!"

James rolled his eyes.

"That's fine," Harry said. "Take your time, bud, there's no rush."

Al spent a few more seconds rearranging everything before looking over his work one more time and then scooting back.

"Okay, I'm ready," he said, glancing back at them.

Harry gave him a nod and gestured for him to continue.

"Happy birthday, Mum," Al said in a quiet voice barely loud enough for them to hear. "I really miss you and…and I love you. And…"

He trailed off for a minute, picking at a scab on his knee as he thought of what to say next.

"I hope you like the flowers," he said, adjusting one that had just fallen over. "Dad and Lily picked them out because last time when me and James did—on Christmas, I think—we broke a pot by accident and the lady got mad. And Dad couldn't do magic cause she'd already seen it. It wasn't the same lady this time, but we stayed away cause it's kind of boring anyway, so…yeah…"

He paused again, this time longer.

Harry couldn't tell the expression on his face since his back was turned, but by the way Al's shoulders seemed to deflate all of a sudden, he knew something was wrong.

He was just about to reach out for him, when the boy's voice sounded once more—so soft, Harry could only hear it because he was already leaning forward.

"Mum…" he said, his head pointed downwards. "Erm…so…I still haven't done magic."

Harry's eyes widened slightly.

"Do you think—is that…is that okay?" Al said, waiting for a second as if expecting an answer. "Cause Dad said it was, but…I dunno. Can you know stuff like that where you are? If you do, can you tell me? I mean…I know you can't  _tell_ me. But can you, you know, show me?"

"What's he saying?" James said in Harry's ear, leaning forward, as well.

Harry held up a hand to quiet him.

"If you can't, then…that's okay, too," Al said, lifting his head back up. "I just wanted to ask."

He brought his fingers up to his lips and then placed them on her name, holding them there for a moment the same way Harry often did.

"Love you, Mum," he said, giving the stone one last look before turning back around.

Harry tried to catch his eye as he moved back to sit next to him, but Al seemed to be very interested in his shoelaces at the moment. He'd wrapped his arms tight around his legs and hid his face from view, but nothing could stop the sound of a tiny sniffle from being heard.

"Well," James said in a loud voice. "That was pointless. We couldn't even hear a thing."

"We don't have to," Harry said at once, throwing him a hard look. "You can talk to Mum out loud, or you can talk to her on your own. She's listening, either way."

Al shifted his head to rest against Harry's arm in response, and he lifted it up and placed it around the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. James had the decency to look a bit sheepish when he realised the state his brother was in, but it was too late. His words had already done the damage.

Albus was always a bit on the sensitive side, anyway, but Harry could hardly blame him considering James' frustrating habit of injecting callous remarks at the most inopportune moments. And this was definitely an inopportune moment. Al had just finished pouring his heart out about something that Harry, in all his glorifying stupidity, had completely forgotten about.

And that infuriated him.

How could he have forgotten? It wasn't that long ago when he'd sat with the boy on a St. Mungo's hospital bed, looked him in the eye, and promised that everything would be all right. But what good had that done?

He'd just ended up going to his dead mother for help, instead.

 _Well done, Potter,_ Harry thought to himself.  _Ginny would be so pleased._

An image of her disappointed face flashed in his mind, but he quickly dispelled it. The guilt wouldn't do him any good, right now, it never did. No, he would just have to think on this another time when his mind was clear and open.

And he would. He would definitely think on this. No matter how much it pained him to consider the possibilities.

"Happy birthday, Mum!"

The sound of James' voice grabbed Harry's attention at once, and he quickly pushed all thoughts away so he could focus on him.

"It's me, James," he said. "Your favourite."

"Hey!" Lily said, shoving him in the back with her foot.

Harry grabbed her legs and secured them in his arms, but James didn't even seem to notice.

"I'm just going to skip right to the point, okay?" he said, his voice filled with excitement. "I've got  _huge_ news, Mum. I'm talking gigantic. Are you ready for this?"

He paused for dramatic effect, looking between each of them before turning back to the headstone with a grin.

"Dad's going to let me play Quidditch!"

The words caused Harry's jaw to clench, but he put on a bright smile when James turned around to give him a thumbs up.

"He said I could make a good keeper, and that I could play on the house team when I get to Hogwarts. And he's going to teach me how to fly, Mum! I don't know when yet, but he said soon. Maybe on my birthday cause, you know, it's only  _two months_  away, and it would be the greatest gift  _ever._ And he's just the best dad in the whole wide world!"

Harry made a mental note to teach James the art of subtlety.

"But who knows," he continued with a shrug. "It might be sooner."

"Or later," Al said.

James whipped around to glare at his brother. "But probably sooner," he said in a voice that left no room for argument.

Harry chose not to offer his opinion. Getting his son on a broom was the very last thing he wanted to do at the moment, but he would never voice that thought aloud.

"Anyway," James said, turning back around. "I can't wait, Mum. It's going to be totally wicked. Maybe I can play in the professional league when I get older, like you? Can you imagine? It would just be so… _totally…_ wicked..."

His voice trailed off into silence for a moment as a dreamy look passed over his face.

Harry cleared his throat loudly. "Is there anything else you want to add?" he said, trying to keep his voice even. "You know…besides Quidditch?"

James snapped out of his daze and turned to face him with a grin. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing could top that."

"Of course not," he muttered.

Harry then let out a small sigh and picked up the last of the flowers in the plastic wrapping so he could place them next to the others on the ground.

"My turn, then, I suppose?" he said, looking around at everyone. "Right…Happy birthday, Ginny. It's me, Harry, your favourite."

This earned him several giggles and an elbow to the chest from Lily.

"Everything's been said already, but I'll say it again," he said as James shuffled back to sit beside him. "We love you and we miss you and we hope you have a wonderful birthday. And…"

He paused for a moment and swallowed. "And we're doing great, we are," he said, gazing at her name for several seconds before a small smile tugged at his lips. "Jamie's just lost his—what, eighth? Ninth tooth?"

"Ninth," James said.

"And I've lost five!" Al said.

"And Al's lost five," Harry said with a nod.

"But I haven't lost any, right, Daddy?" Lily said, turning her head around to look at him. "Cause I'm still little."

"That's right," he said, giving her a warm look. " _But…_ our little flower isn't so little anymore, is she?"

Lily's eyes widened in excitement as she shook her head.

"She'll be starting full-time at school in September," Harry said, brushing his fingers through her hair as she leant back against him. "Got herself a proper uniform and a new backpack and everything."

"But I need new shoes, still," Lily said, glancing up at him.

"But she needs new shoes, still," Harry agreed. "And I will get on that as soon I can."

A pleased smile spread over her face as she settled back once more.

"And Al, over here…he'll be starting year three. And James, year  _four,_ " Harry said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "It's mad, isn't it, Gin? How fast they grow."

He glanced down at Al who was still buried in his side. "Just yesterday, I could hold them in the palm of my hand. And now…" he said, shaking his head.

"Dad," James said in slight exasperation. "You say the same thing every time we come here. I think Mum gets it."

Harry chuckled and gazed at a spot in the distance as he continued to play with Lily's hair. "Yeah…yeah, I suppose she does."

A small stretch of silence followed his words, after which he let out a long breath and continued where he left off, sharing light and inconsequential things that he knew would mean to the world to Ginny if only she could hear them.

When it came time to leave half an hour later, Lily jumped up from his lap and stuck her hand into her pocket in search of something.

"What is it?" Harry asked as a distressed look came over her face.

She wordlessly pulled out a handful of broken birthday candles and stared at them as if not believing her eyes. Harry could tell a scene was about to begin even before her breaths started coming out in short gasps. And sure enough, she burst into tears seconds later.

"Lily?" he said, as she fell into his arms.

Her sudden chorus of loud wails pierced through the silence of the graveyard, making him very thankful that they were alone.

"I…I broke Mummy's candles!" she said, her voice coming out muffled as she cried into his chest. "I didn't mean to. I  _swear_ , I didn't!"

Harry only sighed as he placed a hand on her back, rubbing up and down. "I know," he said in a soothing tone. "But it was just an accident. Accidents happen, right?"

She nodded vigorously into his shoulder.

"That's right," he said, as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Now, go on, give them here. Nothing to get upset over, I can fix them right up."

Lily let out a few sniffles and handed them over, still wiping away at her face. Harry conjured a tissue for her and helped her blow her nose before he set to work on repairing all the candles.

"What do you need them for, anyway?" Al spoke up.

She turned to him with her eyebrows furrowed. "For Mummy's cake," she said.

"What cake?" James said.

"The one she's going to eat today," Lily said as if it were obvious.

James stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "You're mad, you are."

"No, I'm not!" she said, slamming her fists to her sides. "She's going to have a cake, and she's going to share it with Abby's mummy, too. And they're going to have a big party together."

It took a moment for Harry's brain catch up, but Lily had already grabbed the candles from his hand and turned around to stick them in the ground before he could respond.

"Er—"

"What are you on about, Lily?" James said, cutting Harry off. "And what does Abby—or her mum—have anything to do with… _anything_?"

"Cause they're friends," Lily said matter-of-factly. "Abby said so. They play together all the time."

James opened his mouth to retort, but Harry squeezed his shoulder, giving him a look that told him to let it go. He seemed annoyed by this but thankfully dropped the subject.

Harry, for his part, was wondering when—and why—this conversation between Lily and Abby had occurred in the first place. What exactly had the two of them even talked about? Nothing to worry about, by the looks of it, but he was still curious.

Parties and cakes and friends…Yeah, that sounded like Abby, all right.

He let out a long breath and shut his eyes for a moment. The idea of anyone talking to his kids about Ginny was always a touchy subject for him and one that he preferred to avoid. Sure, he didn't mind people sharing memories of her, but things like death and the afterlife were strictly off-limits.

It was just easier that way. They didn't need second or third opinions to confuse them.

But despite all of that, he couldn't find it in him to be mad. Whatever Abby had said, it had made Lily believe that her mother was happy. And there could never be any danger in that.

* * *

The house was still.

Harry made his way blindly down the stairs, not bothering to light his wand.

The kids were spending the night at Andromeda's house at her own insistence, but Harry was coming to regret that decision as he knew he would. Being home alone wasn't something he particularly enjoyed anyway. But on a day like this, it was almost unbearable. Hours seemed to pass him by as he lay in bed, staring numbingly at the ceiling. And at some point, he finally decided he'd had enough.

Enough thinking. Enough feeling. He just needed a goddamn break.

His feet led him all the way down to the locked door of his study as if of their own accord. And with a flick of his wand, he entered.

There, on the opposite end of the room, was an unopened package resting upon the windowsill. It was bathed in a soft glow from the moonlight streaming in through the curtains, and for a moment, Harry simply gazed at it.

It had been sat there waiting for him since he'd come home earlier that day, and while he knew it would be best to just go back upstairs and force himself to sleep, the knowledge of what lay inside that box seemed much more appealing.

And anyway, it would be rude not to open it.

With that thought in mind, Harry made his way over, picked up the package, and tore it right open.

A bunch of small foam packaging bits fell to the floor as he wrapped his fingers around the cool glass of the firewhisky and pulled it out. The usual note was attached to the front with Ron's messy handwriting, this time on a bright orange post-it that he must have nicked from Hermione's never-ending supply.

 _Just in case,_ it read.

And then in a postscript near the bottom:

_Pace yourself, mate._

Harry held the note and bottle in hand as he made his way over to his desk and took a seat. He then stared at the words again for what seemed ages before crumpling up the paper and tossing it in the bin.

"Sure thing, mate," he muttered, pointing his wand at the bottle and causing the cork to pop off. He leant back in his chair and threw his legs up on the desk, bringing the drink up to his lips, at last.

The familiar burning of the liquid down his throat made him wince a bit, and for a moment his insides felt as if they were on fire. But after a few more drinks, he could feel his mouth beginning to grow numb to the taste and his mind to the thoughts that had been racing within it.

And he was beginning to grow warm. So pleasantly warm.

Yes…this is exactly what he needed.

Harry shut his eyes as he took another sip, revelling in the sense of calm that had washed over him. He didn't know how long he sat in that same position, but his thoughts were beginning to take a different turn than where they'd been all night. A more pleasant turn. And he had Ron to thank for that.

Yes, Ron was a good friend. He was always being so nice, after all. And Hermione, too. Hermione was very nice. They were both the best friends a bloke could ask for, really.

He just wished they were here so he could thank them.

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the thought. "I'll go tell 'em," he said, standing up from his chair at once.

The sudden movement caused his head to spin a bit, but he pushed forth, stumbling into the edge of the desk and making his way out the door.

The trip to the fireplace took longer than it probably should have, even after he remembered to light his wand. And when he finally reached the grate, he collapsed onto his knees with a grunt and tossed a handful of floo powder inside.

"Ron? Hermione?" he called, before remembering to lower his voice so as not to wake Rosie and Hugo.

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to his lips.

He then tried again, this time in a loud whisper, but still no response came.

With a frown, Harry pulled his head back out and glanced down at his watch, blinking a few times so the image could focus.

"Whoops," he said, covering his mouth to hide his grin.

It was nearly half past one.

"Pace yourself, Harry. Pace yourself!" he said in a stern voice as he stumbled back into the couch with a chuckle.

Reaching for the firewhisky, he took another long gulp before lying down.

If only it weren't so late, he thought with sigh, as he grabbed a cushion and hugged it to himself. Maybe Ron and Hermione would answer him then, and he wouldn't have to be all alone.

He was always alone, it seemed. And he didn't much like it.

He was like…like a  _loner._

"Harry, the loner," he said aloud, enunciating the words carefully. "Harry, the loner with a sad, sad boner."

He snorted loudly, patting himself on the shoulder for his own brilliance.

He was pretty funny, after all. Not everyone got his jokes, but when they did, they would practically split their sides laughing.

Ron always got his jokes. Hermione, too, for the most part, but she didn't always appreciate them. And Abby…

Yeah, Abby definitely thought he was funny.

A grin spread across Harry's face at the thought, and then a sudden idea struck him that made him smack a hand to his forehead.

_I should call her!_

He quickly pulled out his wand to summon the phone, but it took him several tries before it came flying towards him, and then even more to successfully dial her number.

When he finally heard the line ringing, he threw his head back and got comfortable, tapping his fingers against his stomach while he waited.

"Hello…? Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of her voice. "Hey, you answered!" he said with a smile. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no, you're fine," she said quickly. "I mean you did wake me, but it's fine. Is something wrong?"

He let out a heavy sigh as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "What isn't wrong, Abby? The world's gone to shit," he said, shaking his head. "People always say that, don't they? ' _The world's gone to shit'_. But it's always been shit, hasn't it? It's a shit world."

"Harry…"

"But you know what makes it better?" he continued, holding up a finger for emphasis.

"What?"

"Good. Friends," he said with a nod of his head. "Good friends are all you need, really. Take you, for example. You're a good friend."

"Oh…thank you."

"You're a great friend!" he said even louder. "I've got like…three great friends. And I love you all equally. I mean…I do love Ron just a  _bit_ more. And then Hermione, of course. But you're right up there, as well, you are. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I love  _you_  differently," he said. "Equally, but differently."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Abby cleared her throat. "That's great, Harry," she said. "Have you been drinking a bit?"

He let out a bark of laughter. "How could you tell?" he said, slapping a hand to his knee. "Oh, you're good, you are! I can usually hide it so well."

"Can you?"

Harry nodded.

"Listen, Harry," Abby said in a gentle voice. "Why don't you go on up to bed, eh? I'd come by if I could, but it's late and…well, I don't have a car, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you trying to get me into bed?" he said in a suggestive tone. "Got plans for me, do you?"

" _What?_ Harry…" she said before letting out a loud sigh. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Sure," he said, elongating the word a bit. Then in a more serious tone, he said: "Can I tell you something, though? Something really, really, really heart-breaking?"

"Of course," Abby said, her voice filling with concern. "You can tell me anything."

Harry nodded, trying and failing to hold back a grin.

"I haven't had sex in three and a half years," he said, before bursting out into laughter. "Told you it was heart-breaking! Three years and a half years…nearly  _four._ Can you imagine?"

Abby didn't respond.

"But  _don't worry_ ," he continued in a reassuring voice. "Everything still works. I've checked. I like to make a habit of checking."

"That's fascinating, Harry," she said, finally. "But I think it's best if you go to sleep now."

He placed a hand over his mouth and gasped. "Oh no," he said, his eyes wide. "I've made you angry."

"No, you—I'm not angry," she said. "You just need your rest, okay? We can talk tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Yes, Harry, I promise," she said. "Now, goodnight."

He frowned but wished her a goodnight, as well, before hanging up the phone.

And in what seemed only seconds later, he felt his eyes drooping closed and sleep overtaking him, at last.

* * *

"You're late."

Harry looked up to see Davis standing just outside his office with a scowl on her face, but he brushed past her without a word.

"And you missed the staff meeting," she said, standing in the doorway as he took a seat. "I gave a very in-depth presentation on the practices of stress management, but only five people ended up sitting through the entire thing. I would've had more if you'd just been there."

"Can we please do this later?" Harry said, opening up several memos scattered across his desk and scanning through them one by one.

"No, we can't," she said in a biting voice. "If you don't respect my time, then I don't have to respect yours."

Harry sighed as he read through the same sentence over again.

"Or perhaps the rules don't apply to you?" she said, crossing her arms. "Perhaps there's a secret policy book that I'm not aware of that just says your name with the words 'can do whatever the hell he wants' printed next to it."

"Piss off, Davis," he said, crumpling up the memo and tossing it in the bin.

"Can't say I'd be surprised," she continued with a shrug. "Must be nice, yeah? Being better than everyone else…being a  _hero_ —"

"I said  _piss off!"_ he said, snapping his head up and giving her a piercing look. "I don't need shit from you, all right? Not today!"

Davis pursed her lips and stared back at him in silence.

She had a point, Harry knew that. He'd already taken the day off yesterday, and he'd come in nearly half an hour late, today. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster up enough energy to care.

The whole week had just been crap. It had been absolute crap, and he'd gone and made it even worse last night by embarrassing himself over the phone with Abby. When he'd woken up that morning with a pounding headache, parched mouth, and flashes of the conversation he'd had the night before, punctuality hadn't exactly been his first concern.

But he didn't need to be lectured on it. He just needed some goddamn peace of mind.

"You're pathetic."

The words jerked him from his thoughts at once.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

Davis walked up so she was standing right in front of him, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

"You think you're the only one who's ever been through pain. Who's ever lost someone they loved," she said, her voice cutting sharply through the silence. "Wake up, Potter. The world doesn't revolve around you."

Harry clenched his jaw as she leant her hands on the desk to tower over him.

"You may have every reason to believe it does, sure," she said with a nod. "But you're just as human as the rest of us."

She stayed in that same position for a moment, staring down at him while Harry kept his eyes locked on hers.

Then, giving him one last scowl, she turned on her heel and stalked right back out of his office, shutting the door a bit roughly behind her.

The sound rang in Harry's ears for a long time afterwards as he sat there in silence.

His pride wouldn't let him admit that her words had any effect on him, but a smaller, much more sensible part of him knew that wasn't completely true. How else could he explain the tight feeling in his chest that hadn't subsided since she'd left?

It was uncomfortable and frustrating, and he really wished he could just get her damned voice out of his head. But maybe she had a point.

Maybe.

He didn't know.

The thought lingered in his mind for a moment before he let out a long breath and turned his attention back to the now aggressively twitching memos on his desk.

And for the rest of the morning, he drowned himself in his work.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up at the sound of a knock on his door.

Anna was standing there with her hands clasped primly in front of her. "Would you like me to get you something to eat?" she said. "I'm heading down just now."

He glanced at his watch and shook his head. "No, I'm going out," he said, choosing not to comment on the strangeness of her offer. She'd been acting a bit too considerate towards him today, but so far he'd ignored it.

Anna nodded with a small smile. "Of course, sir," she said. "I'll see you later, then."

"See you," Harry said as she walked back out.

He gazed at the open doorway for a moment, an image of Davis's face popping into his mind, but he shook his head and stood up to leave.

As he made his way to the lift, up into the Atrium, and through the small lunch-hour crowds gathered around Floo entrances and Apparition points, Harry could feel a distinct knot of nerves twisting away in his gut.

He'd been dreading this moment since he'd woken up.

He knew he'd have to see Abby and apologise to her straight away. He just didn't know how she would react. She could be angry or amused or disgusted, or maybe all of those emotions wrapped up together. Or perhaps he was making a huge deal out of nothing.

Whatever the case, he had to prepare himself for the worst case scenario. What that was, he didn't quite know, but he was definitely preparing himself for it.

An image of Abby throwing a steaming hot cup of coffee in his face flashed in Harry's mind for a second, but he shook his head before apparating away.

One glimpse through the windows when he arrived told him that the shop was much busier than he'd anticipated, but he pushed open the door and walked in anyway.

He spotted Abby at the back counter at once, but instead of taking a seat and waiting for her as he might usually do, he made his way over. She was in the middle of talking to a customer, and as soon as she noticed him, the smile on her face seemed to drop just a bit.

It was strange how that tiny reaction caused something in his chest to squeeze.

"Harry," she said, edging towards him once she was finished.

He gave her a small smile and then paused for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Er…" she said after a bit, glancing at something behind him. "You know, I…I can't be long."

He snapped out of his daze, at once. "Right, yeah. I'll be quick," he said, feeling embarrassed. "I just, erm…well, I came to apologise for last night."

Her lips parted, and she gave a small nod for him to continue.

"I know I probably made you uncomfortable. And you have every right to be angry at me," he said giving her a serious look. "I just…I wasn't thinking straight. Obviously _._ And…I'm sorry for that. I'm really, really sorry."

Abby stared at him for a moment before glancing down at her fingers. "It's okay," she said, her voice going a bit quiet. "No harm done."

"Are you sure?" Harry said, leaning in closer. "Because I know I said some really—"

"You were drinking. People say stupid things when they're drinking," she said with a shrug. "I know not to take any of it seriously."

He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. "So…we're okay?"

"We're perfect," she said, giving him a small smile.

Harry watched as she turned around to pour a cup of tea and then place a few scones onto a plate. He supposed he should leave and let her get back to work, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

Something was very clearly wrong, he wasn't too thick to miss that. He just wasn't quite sure what it was. Various possibilities were running through head, but each seemed dafter than the next.

Abby just wasn't the sort to get angry over something so stupid. Not unless it really hurt her.

But what exactly had he said last night to hurt her?

His eyes followed her as she walked towards a table to take an order, and all the while, an idea was slowly taking shape in his mind.

A mad idea. The daftest one yet.

"No," Harry said abruptly, shaking his head. "No, it can't be."

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a loud sigh before making his way towards Abby just as she'd finished with a customer.

"Hey," he said, standing in her path and causing her to pause in her step.

Abby gave him a confused look. "I'll bring you your coffee in a sec," she said. "I just need to—"

"Can we hang out tomorrow?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh."

"If you're not busy, that is," he added. "I just thought we could talk."

She brought a menu up to her chest and hugged it tight. "I'm not busy, no," she said, shaking her head.

He waited for her continue, but she didn't say anything more. "Okay, so…I'll meet you at your flat?" he said. "Six o'clock?"

She nodded. "That's fine, yeah," she said. "See you, then."

"See you," Harry said as she walked away.

His eyes stayed on her for a moment before he shook his head and made his way out the shop, wondering all the while if this week could get any worse.

* * *

It could.

He realised that as soon as he knocked on Abby's door the following evening and came face to face with a woman he'd never seen before.

She was dressed to go out, it seemed, wearing a rather gaudy outfit that shimmered violently every time she made the slightest of movements. The mere sight of it, along with the numerous bracelets clanking noisily on her arms and the pungent scent of her perfume, was enough to make Harry want to grimace.

But he refrained, forcing a smile on his face, instead.

"You must be Harry," the woman said, sticking her hand out. "I'm Clara, Abby's flatmate."

He gave a short nod and shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," she said, giving him a smile as she flipped her hair behind her shoulders. "Come in, have a seat. Abby's still in the shower, she might be a while."

 _Spectacular,_ Harry thought, trying to think up a polite way to decline as he walked in behind her.

"I'm fine here, actually. I'll just wait," he said, leaning against the entryway table and crossing his arms.

"Nonsense," she said, with a wave of her hand. "I  _insist_  you have a seat. Go on."

He didn't even have a chance to respond before she grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit down.

Harry did so, gritting his teeth when she plopped down next him and crossed her legs, causing her dress to hitch up even higher than it was before.

"So…tell me about yourself, Harry," she said, bumping her arm against his. "Abby hardly ever speaks of you. Isn't that strange?"

"Not really."

She laughed lightly as if he'd told a funny joke. "Well, go on, then," she said, patting him on the knee. "What is it that you do for a living?"

Harry sighed loudly and rubbed at his face.

He really needed her to piss off before he said something he'd regret. The only thing stopping him from doing so at the moment was the fact that she was Abby's flatmate, but even that was proving to be irrelevant. It wasn't as if they were particularly close, after all. Abby rarely talked bad of anyone, but the few times she'd complained about Clara in the past were enough to convince Harry of what a shit person she really was.

"Hey? You feeling all right?" came Clara's voice suddenly, sounding uncomfortably close to his ear.

He snapped his head up to glare at her only to find her inches away from his face.

"What the hell?" he said, drawing back in surprise. "What do you think you're doing?"

She gave him a coy smile, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "Just trying to have a little fun," she said, resting a hand on his thigh and leaning in once more. "I think we'd both like that, wouldn't we?"

Harry let out a dry laugh as he stood up. "No, I think you're just terribly confused," he said, walking past her to get to the door.

She clicked her tongue loudly. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs," he said over his shoulder. "You can let Abby know I'm waiting for her."

"Should I also let her know that you're a right poof?" she said with a bit of an aggressive tone. "Best she quits now while she's at it, yeah?"

Harry was just about to open the door when he paused abruptly in his step.

"What?" he said, turning around to face her with a piercing look. "What are you on about?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "You fancy other blokes, innit?" she said.

"Not that," he said in annoyance. "The other thing. You said 'quit while she's at it'. At what?"

A smirk spread across Clara's face as she slowly walked up to him, eyes boring straight into his.

She then stood up on the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear. "At trying to get into your pants," she said, her voice sounding amused.

Harry pulled his head back to look at her. "You're lying," he said.

"Am I?" she said.

"There's no way she would say those words to you," he said.

Clara let out a sudden bark of laughter. "That prude?" she said, her voice going higher in pitch. "Well, of course not!"

Harry stared at her, fighting the urge to cast a Silencing Charm as she continued to laugh annoyingly in his face.

"She doesn't need to though, does she?" she said after a bit, wiping carefully at her eyes so as not to smudge any make-up. "It's just obvious."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "How is it obvious?" he said, knowing for a fact that it was anything but.

Yesterday morning was the first and only time he'd ever suspected anything of the sort, but he had pushed the thought from his mind right away. It just seemed too ridiculous to even consider.

"Because, Harry," Clara said, staring up at him through her lashes while he felt her fingers run along his chest and down to his belt. "You're fit as hell. Who wouldn't want you?"

Harry clenched his jaw tight, grabbing her hand and pushing it away from him. "Don't fucking touch me," he said.

And then without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and slammed the door shut behind him, feeling his blood pounding hard as he strode down the stairs.

As soon as he exited the building, he collapsed onto the front steps and breathed in deeply, welcoming the fresh air.

He wanted to forget everything having to do with that woman, but his mind kept replaying what she'd said about Abby.

Could it be true? Could she really have feelings for him?

Before yesterday, he would have never even considered it. But now...

Harry thought back to the conversation he'd had with her over the phone, stretching his mind to recall exactly what he'd told her. There was, of course, the obvious mention of his…abstinence. But even if she did have feelings for him, he couldn't imagine how that knowledge would upset her. If anything, she would probably just end up pitying him.

No, it had to be something else.

Harry shut his eyes as he attempted to go through their conversation in his head.

There was something about him having good friends, he knew that. He mentioned Ron and Hermione, and then her.

He said he loved them all the same. And then…

And then  _something._

Harry dug the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration. "What else?" he hissed, willing himself to remember.

It took only a few more seconds before it came to him—those words, playing in his mind clear as day.

' _I love you_   _differently.'_

' _Equally…but differently.'_

Harry snapped his head up.

"Bloody hell," he breathed.

He stood up at once to pace in front of the stairs, running a hand through his hair multiple times as he tried to figure out what all of this could mean.

If she didn't fancy him…then it didn't mean anything. He'd simply imagined her being upset while in reality, she most likely couldn't care less.

Or…he didn't imagine it, and she  _was_  upset. But not at him.

That thought made Harry pause in step. "Then, what's she upset about?" he said, feeling concerned all of sudden.

He shook his head after a moment, deciding to think on that later.

"Okay, option B…" he said aloud, resuming his pacing.

If Abby  _did_  fancy him…then—

"Harry?"

He stopped abruptly in his tracks, turning to see Abby standing at the top of the stairs.

"Were you just pacing?" she said, her mouth twitching slightly as she walked towards him.

"Er…" he said. "Yeah, I got bored."

She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry," she said. "It was a really long day. I thought maybe drowning myself in the shower would help."

"Did it?"

"No."

Harry nodded. "Are you okay?" he said, feeling a strange urge to comfort her. "I mean, is it only work stuff, or…?"

She let out a small sigh and glanced down at her fingers for a moment. "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "I suppose it's a lot of…stuff."

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Listen, erm…" she said suddenly, looking back at him. "I'm sorry about Clara. I'm just going to go ahead and assume she did something to irritate you seeing as you're waiting down here."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. "Yeah, we, er…didn't exactly get on," he said, preferring not to go into too much detail. "But that's not your fault."

Abby frowned. "I told her not to bother you," she said, her voice sounding a bit weary. "Guess I should've realised she wouldn't listen."

"Doesn't matter," he said with a shrug. "I do appreciate the gesture, though."

She gave him a small smile. "So…what do you have planned?" she said, glancing around as if the answer would appear in front of her. "You said you wanted to talk about something?"

He nodded. "Let's sit somewhere first," he said, beckoning for her to follow him.

They walked side by side in silence for a while before Abby let out a small 'ah' of realisation as they took a left up at the crossing.

"We're heading towards our spot by the river," she said with a grin. "Look at us, with a  _spot._ We are so cool."

"Aren't we just?" he said, smiling down at her.

She chuckled softly as they continued on their way until they reached the familiar path overlooking the water.

Preferring a bit of privacy, Harry didn't stop until they found a less crowded area that was vacant save for a young couple a few benches down. But the pair of them seemed far too interested in each other to pay any mind to their surroundings, so he gestured for Abby to take a seat.

"Am I not going to like this conversation?" she said, tucking one of her legs up to her chest as she turned to look at him.

"Why do you say that?" he said.

She shrugged. "Dunno," she said with a small shake of her head. "I just keep thinking about last Saturday and everything Hermione said—whether it's too good to be true."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I haven't come to take it all back, if that's what you think," he said, surprised she'd even considered it. "If you're having  _any_  doubts, though—"

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I still want to do this, I just…I guess I'm finding it hard to believe that I  _can_."

"Skill-wise or law-wise?"

Abby licked her lips as she looked out into the water. "Both, I suppose," she said, hugging her leg a little closer to her.

Harry took a moment to stare at her as he contemplated her words.

"Is this what's been upsetting you?" he said.

"What?" she said, turning her head towards him with a confused look.

"You've been upset about something," he said, again. "I could tell when I came to see you yesterday, and you said so yourself today. Something's wrong."

"Harry…I was just—"

"Don't," he said, cutting her off before she could make an excuse.

He wasn't sure how or why the thought came to him then, but as they sat there on the bench facing one another, he suddenly remembered the last time they were in this same position.

It had been her birthday. He'd given her a bracelet and she'd showed him her necklace and he'd learned of her mother's death. And Harry realised now why that conversation stuck out so much more than the hundreds of others in his mind.

It was because they'd talked about  _her._

And they rarely ever did that.

Harry's stomach lurched at the thought. He could hear Davis's words from yesterday playing in his mind all over again, and he understood now why they'd bothered him so much.

They were true. Everything she'd said was true. He was a selfish bastard too blinded by his own pain to see anyone else's. And he couldn't believe how long it had taken him to notice.

Hadn't Abby explicitly said that there were things she wanted to tell him? It had been weeks ago, and she'd never brought it up again.

Weeks ago, and he'd never asked.

"Harry," Abby said, pulling him from his thoughts, her face set in a deep frown. "What is it? What did you want to say?"

He shifted his eyes away from her, staring down at his hands instead as he folded them in his lap.

"I've been a prat," he said, his words sounding heavy in his ears. "In more ways than one. But you already knew that."

Abby clicked her tongue softly. "If this is about the other night—"

"It's not," he said, looking back at her with a sad smile. "It's about a lot of things. But mostly…it's the fact that I haven't been a very good friend."

Her eyebrows rose just a bit, as if the words had surprised her. "That's nonsense, Harry," she said. "You've been great."

He chuckled. "No, I really haven't," he said, shaking his head. "Because you know something? Even after all this time—months and months of talking to each other—I've still got no idea what might be bothering you."

She dropped her arms to her sides and sat up straight.

"And that's my fault," he said, nodding slowly. "Because I  _do_ that. I see people day after day and never bother to ask how they're doing. And maybe it doesn't matter. Not with them. Not with my co-workers or—or friends I've grown up with. But  _you_ …it matters with you."

Her lips parted just a fraction as she stared at him. "Why?" she breathed.

He swallowed hard before casting his gaze towards the ground. "It just does," he said, quietly.

Neither of them said anything after that, letting a tense silence fill the air.

Harry knew he should be the first to break it. He should tell her that he was ready to listen. Apologise for having made her wait so long. And he should prove to her, with any amount of effort it took, that he could be the good friend that she deserved.

Yes…he should do all of those things.

He really, really should.

"My father's getting married at the end of the month."

Harry snapped his head up.

"Er...right," he said after he'd finished staring at her like an idiot. "Are you…not pleased by this?"

She gave him a small smile before brushing her fingers through her hair and letting out a long sigh. "Just forget it, Harry. It's a really long story."

"No," he said, at once. "I want you to tell me."

Then in a softer voice, he added: "Please."

Abby regarded him carefully, as though weighing the decision in her mind. Then after a moment, she let out another sigh and nodded. "All right, fine," she said. "But I'll give you the short version."

"Whatever you like."

She licked her lips as her fingers moved towards her necklace. "Okay, well…I guess I should start by saying that my dad and I aren't very close," she said, shifting her eyes away from him. "Even before my mum died we weren't. He…well, he worked a lot, and I barely ever saw him. And I suppose we just…didn't get on."

She paused for a moment, her face growing a bit weary. "But then afterwards…it became even worse," she said, still playing with her necklace. "It broke his heart, my mum's death. Just like it broke mine and my brother's, but he didn't see that. Or…he just didn't care."

Harry frowned, but didn't say anything.

"If he wasn't home before, he was barely ever home, now. And that left me and my brother alone most of the time," she said, before letting out a humourless chuckle. "I was thirteen. Ryan was ten. And...I had to take care of nearly everything. Especially him. He was like…like my son. And I loved him  _so much_."

Her voice caught at the end of her sentence, but she cleared her throat and continued. "I still do," she said with a wistful look on her face. "More than anything in this world."

Harry was burning to ask where he was now, but he didn't dare interrupt. He could tell just by the slump of her shoulders that there was a whole lot more she had yet to say.

"But it wasn't all bad," she said with a small shrug. "I had some wicked friends throughout school. Kept me…pretty sane, you know? And I know that without them, without Ryan…life would've been pretty crap."

"Do you still speak to them?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "Your friends."

Abby smiled sadly as she looked down at her fingers. "Not really, no," she said with a shake of her head. "We all went to different universities, and I suppose…we just drifted away, as you do."

"I still call them sometimes, though," she added. "But…they're all over the country, now. Some even outside of it."

He nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, softly.

She shrugged. "It's life," she said. "People come and go."

Harry stared at her for a moment, wondering if that was what she thought of him, as well.

Did she really expect him to drift away like all of her other friends? She was a part of his life now, he couldn't just let her go. The mere idea of it made his chest ache in an uncomfortably familiar way.

"But anyway," Abby said, oblivious to his current thoughts. "When it did come time for me to go to university…it was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. Because I knew that…if I went, I'd be leaving my brother behind."

"And he wasn't like me, see," she said, her eyes shifting out of focus as she gazed at the river. "He didn't have good friends or a passion for music. He didn't have anything, really. And I…I couldn't leave him like that. I  _couldn't_."

She let out small breath and shut her eyes. "But I did," she said, her voice going flat. "And I hated myself for it."

Harry creased his forehead. "But you had every right," he said, causing her to look up at him. "It was your life, wasn't it?  _Your_  future."

Abby blinked rapidly as she nodded, but he could tell she was only trying to appease him.

"I used to talk to him over the phone that first term…just to see how he was doing, you know," she said, placing her hands in her lap and wringing them together. "He was…well, he sounded horrible, to be honest. But I pretended like everything was all right. Just like I always do. Kept telling him how I'd be home soon for Christmas…"

She cut off then to take a deep breath as she looked up at the sky.

"And I did come home," she said, her voice growing faint. "He was still at school, but I came home."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"And as soon as I stepped foot inside that house, I realised something was missing," she said, her fingers going back to her necklace. "My mother's piano—the one she'd taught me to play on. The one I'd run to anytime I was feeling down. The only real thing I had left of her. It was just…gone."

She paused for a moment, her nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily through her nose.

"My father sold it while I was away," she said, turning her head back to look at him, her eyes shining now with unshed tears. "And I can't even tell you how much that broke my heart."

Harry felt himself deflate at her words. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, feeling her melt against him.

"I couldn't stand to be in that house for one more second," Abby said, a few tears running silently down her cheeks, now. "We had this  _huge_  row, and I left. Before I even saw my brother."

"And I never went back," she added in a whisper, her face screwing up in pain at the very thought. "Not even once."

Harry swallowed hard as he rubbed circles onto her back. He moved his other hand towards his pocket and carefully pulled out his wand so that he could cast a  _Muffliato_ around them.

"But I tried calling, you know," Abby said after a moment, sounding a bit congested. "I called so many times, but he never answered. And I deserved that.  _I deserved it."_

"Don't say that," Harry said quietly, feeling a deep sadness swell in his chest.

She swiped at her tears in frustration and shook her head. "It's been eight years, Harry, and I've never once heard from him," she said, leaning back to meet his eyes. "I have no idea where he is. No idea what he's doing. If he's even okay."

"And now…after all this time, my father has the nerve to invite me to his wedding," she said, her tone filled with disbelief. "As if nothing ever happened…as if he could just erase  _everything!"_

She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head into her hands, breathing heavily.

"You think he might be there," Harry said, leaning against his knees so he was level with her. "Your brother, I mean."

She nodded.

Harry stared at the ground for a moment before looking back up at her. "Do you have any reason to believe he's not living a normal, happy life somewhere?" he said, speaking as gently as he could. "I mean you don't know, do you?"

Abby let her hands fall to her lap, her entire posture shrinking a bit. "I don't think it's that simple," she said, shaking her head. "Because the thing is…my dad mostly ignored me, but with my brother…he could be quite cruel with his words. To the point where Ryan started lashing out…getting into all sorts of trouble. And I just  _know_ that me leaving made it a hundred times worse."

She let out a long breath and creased her forehead, looking so much older than Harry had ever seen her.

"You see now, Harry," she said, meeting his eyes. "Why you were wrong when you said I had nothing to apologise for."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"All those years, I could've gone home. Just once. Just to see him," she said, sounding desperate. "And then one day…I called the house and my dad picked up. And he told me that Ryan had gone. And I knew at that moment that I might never see him again."

"And I'll never stop blaming myself," she said, leaning back against the bench. "For being too afraid. Too selfish…"

Harry shook his head as he gazed at her, trying and failing to come up with something to say. "Abby…"

"And I know what you think of me," she said, staring back at him. "That I'm this kind-hearted, innocent girl…who's always happy..."

Her voice broke as she said the last word.

"But that's not me," she said. "Not really."

She turned away from him, then, trying to hide the tears now spilling freely from her eyes, but Harry reached out a hand and gently turned her face back.

He'd seen her cry before, but never like this. Never with so much distress. And he just wished he knew how to comfort her or even where to begin.

"It's okay," Abby said after a while, placing her hand over the one he still had resting against the side of her head. "I'll be fine, I promise. I'm just emotional because…well, I haven't really talked about this stuff with anyone for a long time."

Harry couldn't help but let out a sniff of amusement. "You're comforting me," he said, wiping at her cheek with his thumb. "It should be the other way round."

Abby shrugged. "I don't need to be comforted, Harry," she said, her eyes filling with warmth. "I just need to be heard. That's all I want. To be heard and understood."

He nodded. "I can do that."

"Good," she said with a smile.

"And just you know," he said, letting his hand fall from her cheek. "I don't think any less of you, now. There's no reason to. If anything…I respect you even more."

Abby stared at him for a moment, a fresh set of tears slowly spilling from her eyes which only caused him to grin.

"Those better be happy tears," he said, pulling her in for a hug.

She clung to him, wrapping her arms tight around his middle and nodding into his chest. "They are, I promise."

They stayed in that position for a long time afterwards, Harry leaning his head back against the bench as he stared up at the evening sky. And though he thought of many things, his mind kept going back to the fact that Abby had presumably just shared everything with him. Her family, her friends, her past. Everything that made her who she was today.

And with a heavy heart, he wondered if he could ever do the same.

It was one thing to tell Abby about magic. But it was something entirely different to tell her about  _him._

The Boy-Who-Lived.

The Chosen One.

The bloody saviour of the bloody wizarding world.

No…not now. Not yet.

He hated having to keep even more secrets from her after all this time. But he just couldn't bring himself to consider the possibility yet. The moment she knew the truth about him, he feared nothing would ever be the same again.

And he liked the way things were now. He really liked them.


	25. Chapter 25

"…Harry…"

"… _Harry_ …"

…

…

…

"HARRY!"

"I'm up, I'm up," Harry said, blocking his eyes from the sudden splash of sunlight across the room.

Teddy was standing over by the window with a look of exasperation on his face. "Your alarm's been going off for ages," he said, gesturing towards it. "Didn't you hear it?"

Harry shook his head, feeling a bit disoriented. "Sorry," he said, checking the time next to him as he sat up in bed. "I slept later than usual."

"Clearly," Teddy said. "You look like death."

Harry pushed the covers off and let his feet fall to the floor. Every muscle in his body felt like lead, and as he stood up to stretch, he could hear a series of loud cracks emanating from his joints—as though he'd been sleeping for days instead of hours.

"What were you even doing?" Teddy said, looking at him with a slight grimace.

"The usual," Harry said with a shrug. "Went down to the pub…got pissed…started a few fights."

Teddy rolled his eyes before plopping down on the edge of the bed.

"Anyway…thanks for waking me," Harry said as he went to grab his things for a shower. "Now be useful and get the kids up."

"No," Teddy moaned, falling back hard against the mattress.

He let out a grunt of pain that made Harry look over. But before he could ask what was wrong, Teddy shifted to the side and removed a thick tome from underneath his back—the sight of which caused Harry to tense up at once. It had been lying open on his bed for the world to see, pages crinkled and binding worse for wear after having slept on it all night. And at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to banish it from existence.

"What's this?" Teddy said, flipping through a few pages.

Harry moved forward as the boy glanced at the front cover. "A book," he said. "Surely, you've seen one."

He went to take it from his hands, but Teddy shifted out of the way, his eyes fixated on a particular page. "It's about squibs," he said quietly.

"Yes, now give it here," Harry said.

But Teddy made no move to do so. Instead, he stared up at Harry, lips parted and an odd expression forming on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Harry said, starting to get annoyed.

"It's just…"

Harry crossed his arms, nodding for him to continue.

"I…I saw his name," Teddy said as their eyes locked. "There was a piece of parchment with Al's name on it…in a book about squibs."

A small breath escaped Harry's lips, as though something in him had deflated. "That's nothing," he said, shaking his head.

"It's not _nothing_. Look," Teddy said, standing up and shoving the book under Harry's nose. "You wrote it down, that's your handwriting."

"I'm aware of that," Harry said, grabbing it out of his hands and snapping it shut. "And it's just a theory. People have theories, Teddy. They entertain thoughts, they consider worst case scenarios. It's  _nothing."_

Teddy opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut him off.

"Just let it go," he said, levelling him with a pleading look. "Just for now. Please."

His words were followed by a tense silence in which Teddy shifted his gaze and stepped away from him.

He paused for a second, though, as if trying to make a decision, and then turned back towards Harry. "I don't know if you know this, but…" Teddy said, starting off a bit hesitant. "He tells me about it a lot…about not being able to do magic. And…I don't think it's nothing."

"That's not—"

"I know that's not what you meant," Teddy said, drowning out his words. "All I'm saying is…he seems really worried about this. So maybe you could just…I dunno…comfort him? You know…instead of just ignoring it."

Harry licked his lips and nodded, staring down at the floor and trying his best to ignore the churning feeling in his gut. "Right, yeah," he said. "Thanks."

"Look, I don't mean to—"

"No, no, you're right," Harry said, giving him a quick smile. "You are  _so_  right."

He turned around to pick up his towel and change of clothes where he'd left them, but he could see Teddy staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Right, well," Teddy said. "I'll go wake the kids up, then."

"Thanks," Harry said over his shoulder.

As he heard the door close behind him, Harry let out a heavy breath and sat back on his bed.

He could feel his blood pumping in his ears as he stared at the wall opposite him, his hands absentmindedly running through his hair.

Every day, it seemed, he was uncovering more reasons to be ashamed of himself. But this was definitely an all-time low.

He resented his own godson.

Envied him.

For a split second, was even outraged by him, for knowing Albus more than he ever did.

His fourteen year old godson.

Harry reached over to pick up the book Teddy had been looking through and stared at it for a moment, his thumb brushing over the last word of the title.

_Overlooked and Outnumbered: A Comprehensive Guide to Understanding Life as a Squib_

He'd checked it out of the Ministry library on a whim last Friday along with several other books currently hidden beneath a floorboard under his bed. The last thing he wanted was one of the kids running around and finding them by accident. Too many questions would be raised, and he sure as hell wasn't prepared to answer any of them.

Ever since Ginny's birthday, he'd found himself obsessing over Al's magic, spending every available moment scouring his memories for some incident he may have overlooked. A misplaced toy or book being found, vegetables being banished off a plate, a favourite pair of shoes never growing too tight.

But there was nothing—not while he was scared, not while he was angry, not ever.

The fact that Al had done magic as a baby wasn't enough to ease Harry's mind, either. In fact, it only made things more complicated. There were plenty of late bloomers—the books had been adamant about that—but there were hardly any examples of children  _losing_  their magical abilities.

But then, perhaps he was just looking in the wrong spot.

The thought made him exhale loudly as he dropped his head in his hands.

He had to get through the rest of the books as soon as possible; an answer would surely pop up somewhere. He'd go through the whole damn library, if he had to. He'd talk to Hermione, he'd go to St. Mungos. He'd do anything it bloody took to figure this out, but he was  _not_ going to ignore it any longer.

He couldn't bear to let Al down again.

' _Just think on it later,'_  a voice sounded in his mind, drowning out all other thoughts. ' _Take a break and think on it later. It'll come…it always does.'_

A deep sigh escaped Harry's lips as the words rang in his ears.

Even now he could picture Ginny, hands on hips and a look of exasperation on her face, standing outside his study and watching him pore obsessively over his work.

' _Have a glance in the mirror while you're at it,'_ she'd say. ' _You look a fright."_

And he would.

Of course, he would.

The thought made Harry smile despite himself as he shook his head.

Taking one last glance at the book, he returned it to its hiding spot for now, feeling confident that he'd figure everything out soon enough.

When he finally got up to shower, he was relieved to find that he still had plenty of time to get ready for work—something he'd have to thank Teddy again for later.

His morning routine still progressed quickly out of habit, his mind jumping from one thought to the next as he went through things in a mechanical sort of way. But as he got out of the shower, he finally took a moment to pause in front of the mirror for the first time in what felt like weeks.

And to be perfectly honest, he did look a fright.

His hair was a mess, his beard was all patchy, and he was even more disheveled than usual. But more than anything, he just seemed…older, somehow.

So much older.

Even the few frown lines on his forehead seemed to stand out. They were barely visible, but there—etched permanently into his skin. And though he'd never given them much thought before, it was all he could do not to stare at them now.

"You look shit," he said aloud, leaning over the sink as he brushed his fingers lightly across the side of his face. "Absolute shit."

"You're not wrong there, petal," the mirror replied.

Harry rolled his eyes as he dug out his wand from the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and brought it up to his face, intent on making himself more presentable.

But even after several grooming spells and one of his more durable combs, he only just managed to receive a "that'll do" from the mirror. Nevertheless, he felt satisfied with his reflection, running a hand through his much shorter hair before stepping into his room to get dressed for work.

"All right, you lot," Harry called from the sitting room sometime later. "We've got to leave, let's go!"

The kids appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed and ready to leave, but with a pang, Harry noticed that Teddy wasn't with them.

Vowing to speak to him later, he brushed the thought aside for now.

"All right, best be off," he said, as he gathered everyone around the fireplace. "Please don't give Nana any trouble. James…that means getting started on your summer homework, school will be here before you know it—"

" _Dad_."

"Lily," Harry said, turning to her. "Molly and Lucy are going to be at the Burrow today. I don't want to hear about you fighting with either of them, understood?"

Her eyebrows rose. "I  _love_  Lucy," she insisted.

"She's got her fingers crossed," Al said, pointing behind her back.

Lily scowled at him.

"I mean it, Lils, she's only a baby," Harry said, giving her a look. "Big girls don't fight with babies, do they?"

Her mouth formed into a small pout, but she shook her head, nonetheless.

"Good," he said, kissing her cheek. "Now, go on."

He watched as she walked over to the empty grate and stepped inside next to James, accepting the hand he held out for her. They both waved goodbye, then, before throwing down the floo powder and disappearing in a flash of green flames.

Al was just about to follow after them, but Harry reached out an arm to stop him.

"Hold up, mate," he said, kneeling down so they were at eye-level. "I haven't even hugged you yet, come here."

Without waiting for a response, Harry pulled the boy in for a tight embrace, pouring as much feeling into the action as he could before placing a kiss atop his head. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," Al said, his voice slightly muffled. "But I can't breathe."

Harry let go quickly. "Sorry," he said with a small smile. "I'll, erm…see you later, then, okay? Have fun."

Al shifted his eyes to the side. "Okay," he said. "You, too, I guess."

Feeling a bit daft, Harry patted Al on the shoulder and then watched as he headed toward the fireplace.

"Bye, Alby," Harry said with a small wave as the boy flooed away.

* * *

As Harry walked into work that morning, he made a conscious effort to greet the people around him, even offering a few smiles along the way. He figured it was the least he could do after the mood he'd put everyone through the last few days.

 _Last few years, more like_.

"Morning, Anna," he said, ignoring the thought.

The girl glanced up as Harry greeted her, giving him a quick smile before burying her head back into her work.

This was usually the point where he'd walk into his office and close the door behind him, but something made him pause today.

"So," he said, clutching tightly at the strap of his bag. "Did you have a good weekend?"

She lifted her head back up, staring at him with a blank expression as if she were having trouble processing his words.

"Er…yes," she blurted out just as Harry was starting to regret speaking. "Yes…it was good."

He nodded slowly, shifting his weight a bit on his feet. "That's good," he said with a small upturn of his lips.

She placed her quill back into the inkwell and folded her hands on her desk. "And you?" she said, eyebrows raised in question.

"Er…good as well, yeah."

"I'm glad," she said with a smile.

There was a small stretch of silence after that, and Harry could feel the atmosphere starting to grow awkward. He assumed he should be the one to end the conversation, but he hadn't the faintest idea of what to say.

Would a simple 'good-bye' sound too rude? Or perhaps a 'see you later'? Should he just walk away?

Maybe he was overthinking this.

"There's a…memo on your desk," Anna said, pulling him from his thoughts. "From Auror Davis. It seemed important."

Harry felt a swell of relief at her words. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Well…I should get to it, then, shouldn't I?"

He turned around and stepped inside his office before she could respond, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment.

Then with a shake of his head, he pulled himself off and went to sit at his desk.

He spotted the memo at once, flittering madly as it tried to escape from beneath a pile of intake forms. He carefully wedged it out and was just about to open it up when a loud knock sounded at his door.

"Come in," he called.

He glanced up to see Davis enter the room, a file held closely to her chest and her expression wary.

"Potter," she said by way of greeting.

"Davis," he nodded in return.

They avoided each other's eyes for a moment, both clearly sensing a bit of tension between them, but neither wanting to bring it up. Their last interaction was still fresh in Harry's mind, and he didn't think he'd be forgetting about it any time soon. It hadn't exactly been hostile—as many of their conversations were prone to be—but had been uncomfortable.

More than he cared to admit.

"Did you read my memo?" Davis said, taking a seat across from him.

Her eyes shifted to the unopened parchment in his hands and then back up to him, pursing her lips as if trying hard to restrain herself from giving a biting remark.

"I only just got in," Harry said, sitting up a little straighter. "Why don't you go ahead and summarize. Save us both some time."

She gave a small sigh but nodded. "It's the Merchant case," she said, placing the file on his desk. "And before you say anything, I know—we should stop bothering with it—"

"Yes, you should," Harry said, ignoring the weird air between them for a moment. "How many months has it been now, Davis? It's a dead-end, you lot are wasting your time."

"You think I don't know that?" she said, clearly frustrated. "I never wanted to take on this case in the first place, but  _you_ encouraged it. So right now, I want you to sit there, and I want you to listen."

Harry let out an irritated breath as he leant back in his chair.

"Right," she said, taking this as her cue to begin. "The other day I went down to St. Mungos to have a look through the family's medical records—just to see if there was any history of trauma or spell damage that could even  _possibly_ be attributed to the father."

"And?" Harry said, gesturing for her to get to the point.

"The son's file…it was huge," she said, her eyebrows raised. "There were all these descriptions of… weird experimental procedures and treatments—I'd never heard of any of them."

"Do you have a copy with you?"

"Of course," she said, handing over the file.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he opened it up, letting his eyes scan over a few pages. "Why wasn't this brought up originally?" he said, straining his eyes as he tried to read through the Healer's messy handwriting. "This kid was clearly sick with something. He could've died of natural causes."

"But it wouldn't explain the wife's death," Davis pointed out. "She was perfectly healthy."

"Still," he said, shaking his head. "This is an oversight…"

He looked back down at the page in his hands, taking a moment to read through several case notes that spanned multiple years.

"Buchanan…"

"What?" Davis said, glancing up.

"The Healer," he said, tapping the parchment. "I've heard that name before—Buchanan."

Davis frowned. "It's not that uncommon," she said.

"No, I mean…I've heard of a Healer called Buchanan," Harry said, searching the file for a first name. "Do you know which department he was in?"

She shook her head. "The records aren't even clear which ward the patient was in," she said. "It looks like he spent time on the fourth floor, but they don't label it as Spell Damage. I could just check the directory, though."

Harry scratched his jaw in thought.

He'd heard it recently, he knew that much. But from where?

Was it Hermione? Had she mentioned it? That was where he usually got his sources of information from, anyway.

"Hold on," Harry said, slamming his hand on the desk as a sudden thought popped into his head. "Of course…I'm an idiot."

"Do share," Davis said.

"Buchanan,  _R_ ," he said, pointing down at the name. "His first name is Robert. I read it in a book the other day."

"Which was about what, exactly?"

"He's a healer who focuses on squib magic. Or…lack thereof," Harry said, wishing he had the book with him now. "He's done experiments in the past. Some ended pretty badly, but they didn't talk too much about it. I definitely remember him, though."

Davis furrowed her eyebrows. "So…you think the kid was a squib?" she said.

Harry stared at the wall opposite him, his thoughts running a mile a minute. "Yeah…yeah, I do."

Unable to sit still any longer, he got up to pace behind his chair, feeling the all too familiar buzz that came with solving a case.

"Just think about it," Harry said, turning to face her. "Merchant sees that his son isn't doing magic, he's worried, he's desperate. He turns to the Healers, and only one guy offers to help—maybe not the best option, but he's all they've got at this point."

"So…he tries treating him, but it doesn't work," Davis continued for him. "Then what? The dad is so ashamed of having a squib for a son that he kills him? Better motive than anything we've come up with so far, I suppose…"

"What? No," Harry said, pausing in his step. "And anyway…we're trying to prove his innocence, not figure out his motive."

"We're  _trying_  to find out the truth. Whether he's innocent or guilty makes no difference," Davis said. "A solid motive could help us settle things once and for all."

Harry shook his head as he continued pacing back and forth. "You're thinking about this all wrong," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Enlighten me, then," she said, crossing her arms. "What exactly is your brilliant idea?"

Harry abruptly sat back down in his chair, folding his hands on the desk as he leant in closer. "I don't think Merchant killed them," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I think his son did."

The words caused her to draw back a bit.

"How could—" she said, before cutting off and shaking her head.

He waited as she took a moment to process this, her forehead creasing in thought.

"An accident?" she said with a troubled look on her face. "Some sort of…magical outburst."

Harry nodded, casting his gaze down to his tightly clasped hands. "Magic is volatile even at the best of times. Especially in children," he said, a heavy weight settling in his chest. "You shouldn't mess with stuff like that."

"Shouldn't you?" she said, causing him to look up. "I mean…wouldn't you want to do anything?"

It was Harry's turn to draw back in surprise. "No," he said, feeling insulted. "If there was even the slightest chance of a hair on his head being damaged, I would tell the healer to fuck off. Squib or not, he's still my son."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Look, that's not the point," Harry said, waving the matter away. "The point is we need proof—whether he was squib, whether he was deficient in magic in any sort of way. We can't move forward until then."

Davis sighed, bringing her fingers up to massage her temples. "That'll be difficult, though, won't it? Most families like to keep it hush-hush," she said. "There's no real way of knowing until the child doesn't get their Hogwarts letter."

"And he died before he was eleven," Harry finished for her, shutting his eyes as he leant back in his chair. "There must be another way…"

He covered his face with his hands and let out a soft groan, desperate to figure out the answer.

"Well…I suppose there is," Davis said after a few seconds of silence. "Another way, I mean. An obvious one."

"Being?" he said, looking at her.

She shifted forward in her seat, folding her arms on top of the desk. "Hogwarts letters get sent to every school-aged child in the country based on a list, right?"

"Yeah…" he said.

"Which means," she said with a smug look. "Any child  _not_  on the list is non-magical."

"But he wasn't school-aged," Harry said.

Davis gave a half-shrug. "Doesn't matter. They're written from birth," she said. "Haven't you ever heard of the Quill of Acceptance?"

Harry swallowed hard, shifting his eyes away and gazing at a spot on his desk for a moment.

"I'd just have to look his name up…" he said quietly.

"Well, I mean…I could do that," Davis said. "We can't have royalty doing peasants' work, can we?"

"No, I'll go," Harry said, ignoring her remark as he stood up and started to gather his things.

The grin slipped off Davis's face as she watched him. "Whoa, Potter," she said, straightening up in her seat. "What's the rush? We're not even done discussing this."

"What else is there to discuss?"

"A lot of things," she said, looking at him as if he were mad. "Namely…what the hell is wrong with you?"

Harry made his way around the desk and motioned for her to get up. "Nothing," he said. "I just need some fresh air, all right? I'm stuck in this office all day, and I want a change of scenery. Now go and tell Savage he's in charge until I get back."

She stared up at him with a scrutinising look, clearly not buying his excuse.

For a split second, Harry thought she might have pieced something together, but then she shook her head and stood up, as if deciding against it.

"Fine, whatever," she said. "Have fun doing whatever you're doing."

She walked towards the door and closed it behind her only for Harry to follow after a moment later, exchanging a few words with his secretary before making his way toward the lifts at the end of the corridor.

He knew there was no reason to hurry, but that didn't stop him from continuously pressing the lift button as he waited for it to arrive.

One way or the other, he'd be getting an answer today. And even though he knew there was a 50:50 chance that it wouldn't be the one he was praying for, his heart was still pounding away with anticipation.

He just couldn't believe he'd never thought of this before. It was so simple. Almost _too_  simple. It made him wonder if there wasn't some sort of catch.

Harry brushed the thought away as he stepped into the lift. There was nothing to lose by trying. And at the very least, he'd get to visit Hogwarts. It wasn't exactly a lie when he said he needed a change of scenery.

"Hogwarts," Harry said, a sudden thought popping into his head as the golden grilles slid open to reveal the Atrium.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he stepped out into the large hall. Without wasting another second, he quickly made his way to the apparition points and disappeared out of sight.

As soon as he reappeared in his back garden, Harry made a dash into the house—going up the stairs and straight into the boys' room. He got on his hands and knees and reached for a box underneath James' bed marked ' _keep out or suffer!'_  which held a variety of  _WWW_  products that Harry usually chose to overlook. Spotting the sweet he was looking for, he pulled it out and placed it securely in his pocket before dashing back downstairs.

* * *

Abby yawned, struggling to keep her eyes open as she brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

The morning rush had come and gone, and she was left with nothing better to do than look busy—a difficult task considering she'd gone through all her duties at least twice, already.

"Waters," her boss said from across the room. "Clean the machines."

They were spotless, but Abby didn't bother mentioning that.

"On it," she said, making a show of grabbing the spray bottle and a rag.

As soon as Ms. Appleton disappeared into the back room, Abby tossed both items aside and sat down at a table, resting her head against her arms.

She knew it wasn't the best idea to do so considering her eyelids were growing heavier by the second and her boss had a habit of breathing down her neck. But Christ, was she tired. Her shift had been dragging on for what seemed ages when it was only nine o' clock. And right now, all she wanted was a nap.

Just a small one.

Five minutes wouldn't kill anybody…

"Abby."

"I'm awake!" she said, standing up so quickly that she nearly stumbled over the foot of her chair.

A hand came up to steady her, and she turned to see Harry staring back at her with amusement. "Only just," he said, letting her go. "Lucky I found you."

"Yeah…yeah, lucky," she said, pressing her palms against her eyes for a moment. "What brings you here?"

Harry shrugged. "Just popping in," he said, glancing around the room.

It took a second for Abby to get her bearings straight before she focused her attention back on him. The sight that met her when she did, though, was enough to make her pause.

He looked different. She noticed that, at once.

His hair was shorter, his beard was gone, even his clothes were neater on him, somehow.

It was an only a slight change—maybe overlooked by most—but to her, it was as clear as day.

"You look…" Abby said before trailing off.

A few words came to mind—some she felt more comfortable sharing than others. "Well," she said with a small smile. "You look well."

Harry seemed confused for a moment before giving a short nod "Right," he said, gesturing towards his face. "Thanks."

She nodded in return.

"So, erm…" he said, glancing around once more. "Are you busy?"

"Do I look it?"

"Is your boss in?" he clarified.

Abby made a small noise of disgust and nodded. "She's in the back. Why?"

Harry waved her question away. "I have somewhere to go," he said, his voice lowering a bit despite the empty room. "And I'd like you to come with me."

She raised her eyebrows a bit in surprise. "Oh...erm…"

"If you wanted."

"I do," Abby said before she could stop herself. "I mean…I think I do. But I'll need more details, of course."

She didn't, really.

In fact, she'd probably go just about anywhere with Harry if he asked. But she wasn't going to admit that anytime soon.

"Right," Harry said with a nod. "Only…it's sort of a surprise."

Abby wrinkled her forehead.

"A good one," he added. "I'm sure you'll like it—in fact, I know you will."

She smiled in amusement. "Rather confident, are we?"

"You're not that hard to please," Harry said.

This was true.

Still, she pretended to consider it for at least a few seconds more before nodding her head. "Sure," she said. "When do we leave?"

"Now."

"What? _"_ Abby said, a bit louder than she meant to. "I mean, I can't. I'm…well, I'm at work, aren't I? I thought you meant like…later, or this weekend or something."

"No, I meant now," Harry said.

She watched in confusion as he dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a sweet, holding it up between them meaningfully as if it was meant to answer everything. Before she could ask any more questions, however, the bell on the shop door chimed signaling a new customer.

Abby sighed as she saw her boss re-enter the room. With or without any customers, there was no chance she'd be allowed to leave. She didn't know what Harry was playing at.

"Eat this," he said quietly, placing the sweet in her hand. "But only the orange half."

"What—?"

"Go on," he said. "I'll explain everything later."

She looked down at it, and then back up at him, wishing just for once that he could be straightforward about something.

But there was no time to dwell on that. Ms. Appleton was approaching them wearing a familiar look of disapproval on her face, and Abby knew that she had to make a choice quickly.

"Just trust me," Harry said quietly.

She did. Probably more than she should.

So, squeezing her eyes shut, Abby braced herself and took a bite.

It was sour.

Almost uncomfortably so. And a bit difficult to chew, at that.

But that was all, really. Nothing strange, nothing  _magical,_ nothing _—_

" _Oh_ …" Abby said, clutching her stomach as a sudden wave of nausea hit her out of nowhere.

She grabbed onto a nearby chair for support and looked up at Harry, breathing heavily through her nose and trying her best to keep down the contents of her stomach. "You…you…" she said, pointing a finger at him. "You little—"

But what he was, Harry never did find out, as Abby vomited rather violently on the floor that very next second.

" _Waters!"_

Both their heads whipped around to find Crab-apple rushing towards them.

" _What_ is going on here?" she hissed quietly so as not to attract any attention. "You came to work to sick?"

"Ms. Appleton, I—"

But Abby's words were cut off as she vomited once more, this time falling to her knees and hunching over.

"Up. Get up," the woman said. "You're going home this instant. I can't have you spreading your germs about the place. You—get her out of here."

Abby felt rather than saw Harry carefully lift her up and manoeuvre her away from the mess on the floor. She heard him mention something about good work ethic, but the rest of his words were drowned out by a loud " _Out!"_ that caused him to half-drag, half-carry her towards the door.

Once they were outside, Harry led her towards an alleyway near the shop where she proceeded to throw up once more before resting her head against the brick wall behind her.

"Here," he said, giving her another sweet, this time purple.

Abby felt her stomach roil at the mere sight of it. "Don't want it," she said, shoving his hand away.

"It'll make it stop," Harry said, moving it up to her mouth.

She clamped her lips shut and shook her head.

"Abby…" Harry said, speaking to her as if she were a child. "I promise you'll feel better. Just please eat it."

He looked her in the eyes, willing her to believe him, and she hated that it was so easy to give in considering what he'd just put her through.

"Fine," she said, her voice thick.

Not wasting another second, Harry took her face in one hand and popped the sweet in her mouth with the other, staring her down until she chewed every last bit of it.

"There we go..." he said, dropping his hands to her shoulders. "Feel better?"

She did. In fact, she felt better than she had all morning. But that certainly didn't mean she was going to let him off easy.

Abby wiped at her mouth, accepting the goblet of water that Harry offered her. "I do, yeah," she said, looking back at him. "But what the  _hell?_  Was that really necessary?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said at once. "Really, I am. But…I had to get you out of work, somehow."

"And this was the only way you could think to do it?" she said, placing a hand on her hip.

Harry shrugged, looking a bit helpless. "It was the first idea that came to me," he said. "It'll be worth it, though. I promise."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'll be the judge of that," she said, sounding a bit rude even to her own ears. "How are we getting there, anyway? Wherever 'there' is."

Harry cleared his throat.

"What," she said, not liking the look on his face.

"Well...the easiest way would be to apparate."

She felt her stomach protest once more. "That's the teleporting one, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"Oh, bloody hell."

He gave her a look of sympathy. "They say most people only vomit their first time," he offered.

"Just get it over with, please," Abby said, holding out her arm and shutting her eyes.

She felt Harry lock his arm around hers and then his voice close to her ear.

"I'll make it up to you," he whispered, causing an entirely different sensation in her stomach—this one not entirely unwelcome.

"I promise," he said.

And a second later, they were gone.

* * *

The first thing Abby noticed was the noise.

Or rather, the lack of it.

Coming from a busy London street, the silence here was almost deafening.

But as her ears adjusted to the change, she began to pick up on new sounds around her: dozens of different birds chirruping above them, the rustle of leaves on trees in the wind, even the faint sound of a stream trickling somewhere in the distance.

The temperature was different here, as well. She could feel a slightly cooler breeze sweeping through her clothes, making her wish that she was wearing more than just her thin work blouse.

But she brushed that thought aside, for now. It was hardly her main concern.

"You can open your eyes, you know.."

Abby started at the sound of Harry's voice, forgetting for a moment that he was right beside her. "Yes, I know," she said. "I was saving that bit for last."

"Of course," Harry mumbled.

She ignored him, spending a few more seconds with the rest of her senses before taking a deep breath and opening her eyes.

"Do you know where we are?" Harry said, watching her as she observed the scene around them.

"Er...the countryside?" she said, seeing rolling green hills in the distance.

"Which country?" he said.

Abby turned towards him in confusion. "We're not in England?"

He shook his head. "More north."

"Iceland?" she said, eyes wide.

Harry chuckled. "Back up a bit," he said.

Realisation struck her then, and she felt her heartbeat quicken in excitement. "Scotland…" she breathed, her mind working a mile a minute, now. "You went to boarding school in Scotland."

He gave a short nod. "I believe I did, yeah," he said.

"So...that means we're gonna see it," she said slowly, trying to gauge his reaction. "Like...your  _proper_  wizard school. Where you learned  _actual_ magic. That's the surprise?"

Harry stared at her for what seemed an age before his face split into a wide grin, causing her to nearly squeal in response.

She threw her arms around him and hugged tighter than she'd ever done before. "You were right. You were so,  _so_ right," she said, voice muffled by his shirt. "It was all worth it, everything. I'm sorry I ever doubted you, you're  _amazing!"_

"Okay, okay, calm down," Harry said, sounding amused. "Let's actually get there first, and then you can decide how amazing I am."

"Right," Abby said, letting go at once. "Lead the way."

Harry took his wand out and held out a hand to stop her. "I, er...have to do something before we go," he said.

Abby paused, staring at his wand and then back up at him. "What?"

"Nothing bad," he said, sensing her anxiety. "Just a change of clothes. You know...to fit in better."

Before she could say another word, Harry pointed his wand at her, his face set in deep concentration as he moved his arm in a complicated gesture that she assumed took a lot of skill to master.

"There," he said once he was done. "That'll do."

Abby looked down at herself and frowned. "Blimey," she said, smoothing her hands over the thick black fabric that reached all the way down to her feet. "Bit like the books, isn't it?"

"Books?" Harry said, transforming his clothes as well.

"About sorcerers and magic and things," Abby said. "They wore those robes. You know…like Merlin?"

Harry nodded in understanding. "You'd be surprised how accurate some of that stuff is," he said, pocketing his wand. "Even Merlin."

Abby gave him a sceptical look. "He was real?"

"Mhm."

"You're having me on."

"I'm not," Harry said with a pleased look. "Went to this school, even."

"Oh, shut up," she said.

"It's true!"

"Yeah, and you two shared a dormitory, as well, did you?"

Harry let out a small laugh and shook his head. "Come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. "See Hogwarts for yourself, then you can be the judge."

"Gladly," she said with a smile.

They walked in silence for a bit after that, and Abby was beginning to miss the clothes she'd been wearing when they'd arrived. The mid-morning sun was beating down against their backs with the black of their robes absorbing the heat fully. She couldn't imagine having to wear these things in the height of a London summer.

"Why couldn't we just teleport into the school?" she said.

"Apparate," Harry corrected. "And you can't. The school grounds are blocked off."

That made sense, she supposed.

"Anyway, we're nearly at the gate," he said. "It's just up there."

Abby glanced over to where he'd pointed, squinting her eyes from the sun. "I don't see anything," she said.

"Just follow me," Harry said.

They made their way over to what looked like an ancient stone archway—overrun by vines, and chipped and cracked in several places. It seemed like it could fall apart at any second, and Abby was surprised when they stopped in front of it.

"What are we—?"

"You'll see," Harry said, leading her through the archway.

They continued walking for a bit, the sight of a stone building coming into focus as they passed over a small hill.

'Building' was perhaps too generous a word. It was more like a ruin, decrepit and old, weathered by years of sun and storm, and looking even more worse for wear than the archway they'd just passed through.

"Erm," Abby said, feeling very lost now.

Surely, this wasn't…

"How bad does it look?" Harry said.

Abby glanced up at him. "What do you mean?" she said. "Can't you see it?"

Harry shook his head, a strange expression on his face. "It looks different to muggles."

She felt her shoulders sag a bit at his words. "Oh," she said. "Then...what's the point in—"

"Give me your hand," Harry said.

"Why?"

"Just...do it," he said, looking her in the eye.

Abby sighed, feeling a bit frustrated but bringing her hand up to his, nevertheless. He squeezed it gently before leading her towards the building.

"We're walking toward the front doors," Harry said, moving slowly as if leading somebody blind. "They're huge, taller than both of us. With big fancy knockers. And we're standing right in front of them."

She followed his line of sight, trying hard to imagine the picture he was describing. Was this what he planned on doing the rest of the time? Explaining everything he saw to her?

"I'm going to knock now," Harry said. "And the door will open."

Abby nodded for lack of anything better to say, her initial excitement slipping away fast. She knew it would be difficult for Harry to show her certain aspects of his world. There were laws, things were hidden, everything was secret. But for a moment, she really thought this might be an exception. Because why on earth would he bother bringing her here if—

"Whoa," she breathed, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.

True to Harry's words, the front doors had opened. But as soon as they did, the entire world around her seemed to become distorted for a moment. Two images blurred into one. Or perhaps hundreds or thousands or maybe none at all. She was struggling to get her eyes to focus as everything was moving, changing, and all of it, all at once was starting to make her head spin.

"Abby," came Harry's voice, sounding far away. "Look at me. Look at my face."

She felt his hands on her shoulders, and she struggled for a moment to meet his eyes. But when she finally managed it, she was relieved to find him staring back at her—clear, whole, and intact.

"Are you okay? Can you see me?"

Abby blinked a few times and nodded, staring at him as though he were an anchor that would keep her from slipping away.

Harry smiled and let go of her shoulders. "Good," he said, straightening back up. "Then...go on. Have a look around."

"What?" Abby said, feeling a bit disoriented.

He took her arm and led her a few steps back with him. "Have a look around," he said again, gesturing in front of him for emphasis.

Abby's eyes slowly traveled upward, and she froze.

They were standing in front of a large castle, the biggest she'd ever seen, and she had to take several more steps back to view it in its entirety.

"How...?" she said, her voice practically hysterical as her eyes roved over the endless turrets and towers and back down to the large oak front doors. "There was—it was just—"

"Magic," Harry said, answering for her. "There're charms to prevent muggles from finding their way in—to keep it a secret. But they break down as soon as the doors open for you."

Abby glanced over at him, completely at a loss for words, before looking back up at the castle. "And why did they open for me?"

"I knocked," Harry said simply.

It didn't seem like the most foolproof security measure, but she assumed there was much more to it than Harry was letting on.

"Beautiful, isn't it, though?" he said, walking up beside her. "Hogwarts."

She nodded, turning her head to observe the grounds, as well. "Incredible," she said, squinting her eyes at what looked like a large stadium in the distance with three giant hoops on either end. "What's over—"

"Do you want to go inside?" Harry asked, stepping in front of her. "I can show you around."

And all at once, Abby felt her excitement coming back full force. "After you," she said, giving him the brightest smile she could manage. "Are you going to give me a tour? Show me your classes? Your dormitory? Your favourite snogging spots?"

"All that and more," Harry said with a grin as he led her through the front doors and into the entrance hall. "But first...I have to take care of something."

* * *

"All right," Harry said in a quiet voice as they stood in the corridor that led up to the Headmistress's office. "Here's the story: You're a witch. You never went to Hogwarts. You're training to be an Auror."

"A who?"

"Shit," Harry said, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I forgot I never told you."

"Told me what?"

Harry glanced up at the walls as is if they were listening in before looking back at her. "What I do for a living," he said, giving her a meaningful look.

Abby raised her eyebrows.

"I'm an Auror," he said again. "It's like a...a sort of...detective inspector who fights crime.  _Serious_ crime. The darkest of wizards."

Her lips parted as she stared at him, a hundred different questions threatening to spill out of her mouth at once.

"Look, I promise I'll explain more later," Harry said as if reading her mind. "But right now, you just need to know the basics."

"Right, yeah," Abby said, snapping out of her reverie. "So I'm in training..."

Harry nodded. "You went to school in France, a place called Beauxbatons," he said. "I doubt she'll ask more questions, but if she does, just let me answer."

Abby tutted softly. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "But I can totally think on my feet. I took an improv class a few years ago."

He gave her a doubtful look, but didn't say anything more as he led her up a spiral staircase and to the door of the headmistress's office.

"Is she usually in during the summer holidays?" Abby said, glancing up at him.

"Should be. It's nearly the beginning of term."

Abby nodded as he brought his hand up to knock on the door, but then looked back up at him with a smirk. "Did you used to come here often when you were a student?" she said. "Or were you one of those goody-goodies?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her but didn't have a chance to respond as the door opened a moment later, seemingly of its own accord.

"Mr. Potter," said a voice as they entered.

Abby turned towards it, the smile on her face slowly slipping away as she gazed at the woman behind the desk: tall, with black hair tied back in a bun and a large witches' hat resting atop her head, wearing beautiful, embroidered green robes with long, flowing bell sleeves. She was a picture of elegance—like something out of a fairytale.

And for the first time, Abby truly felt like she was in the presence of someone  _magical._

"Whoa," she breathed.

"Professor," Harry said, walking over to shake her hand.

"It's good to see you," the woman said, gesturing for them both to sit down. "I'd heard word from the portraits that it was you at the door, but I thought, surely, they must be delusional."

Harry let out a polite laugh that made Abby stare at him out of the corner of her eye.

"And who is this?"

Abby turned her head in the woman's direction upon being addressed. "Abigail Waters," she said with a smile, extending a hand towards her.

"Auror trainee," Harry added. "Never been to Hogwarts. Thought I'd show her around a bit while I'm here."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "English?"

"Yes, but—"

"She went to Beauxbatons," Harry said. "Moved back to England recently after being accepted into our program."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, staring at him over her glasses. "Am I wrong in assuming the young woman has a voice?"

Harry cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. And Abby had to struggle hard to keep her face straight.

"Erm," she said turning back to the headmistress. "Everything he said, basically. I'm...very excited to see Hogwarts. I've heard wonderful things about it."

"Of course you have," McGonagall said, folding her hands atop the desk. "We're the finest wizarding institution in the world."

Abby frowned, wondering if that was supposed to be a dig at her own school before realising that she was getting too in-character.

"But that's hardly the point," the woman said, before turning to Harry once more. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Potter? I assume you're not just here to have a natter over tea."

"Er, no," Harry said, shifting forward in his seat. "It's actually about a case. I can't share the details, but I'll need to have a look at the Magical Quill. Or...more specifically, the list of names the Quill's written down over the years"

McGonagall stared at him for a moment, her eyes shifting across his face as though studying him. "How many years back, exactly?"

"Not sure," Harry said, jaw tensing in a way that Abby knew meant he was uncomfortable.

Why, she had no idea. It seemed like he had a rather important job that allowed him access to all sorts of information if he just asked. More than that, he appeared to have a pretty good relationship with McGonagall—a fact that was strange enough to Abby as she doubted many of her old teachers even remembered her.

"Well," McGonagall said, "students born in the last fifty years should be in the current volume, but if you need to go further back, we can manage it."

Harry straightened up, his jaw relaxing at once. "No, that should do," he said, giving her a quick smile. "If you could just lead the way."

The woman bowed her head slightly before opening one of her desk drawers and pulling out an old-fashioned key. She then stood up and walked around her desk toward the door.

"It was lovely seeing you, Harry. Do try and visit more often," said a sleepy voice from somewhere above them.

Abby's head shot up, her eyes shifting around to try and find where it came from.

"I will, Professor," said Harry with a smile. "It's good to see you, too."

She followed Harry's gaze to one of the large portraits hanging on the wall where an old man with long white hair and a long white beard was staring down at the both of them.

 _Literally_  staring.

"Bloody hell," Abby whispered under her breath.

McGonagall's words from earlier suddenly came back to her then, making much more sense than they did before.

" _I'd heard word from the portraits that it was you at the door."_

She stored that information away to ask about later as she quickly followed behind Harry and McGonagall down the spiral staircase.

As they continued walking throughout the castle, Abby was finding it difficult to keep up with the pair of them as she couldn't help but stop every few feet to take in the sights around her: suits of armour, floating candles, moving staircases. She could have sworn she'd even seen a ghost at one point. And whatever doubts she had about the portraits before, were now completely dispelled as she observed several of them along the way—talking, laughing, staring, pointing. She thought she'd heard a few say Harry's name, even. But how they could possibly remember him after all these years was beyond her.

Perhaps he visited often?

But even then, the way they stared...it was as if they were so pleased to see him. So  _honoured._

It was odd.

"I've never been to this part of the castle before," came Harry's voice ahead of her.

"I doubt any student has," McGonagall replied. "The tower is locked, and no spell can undo it."

Abby and Harry watched as McGonagall pulled out the key from deep within her robe pocket once they reached the double doors at the end of the corridor.

As she unlocked them, they opened to reveal another set of spiral stairs, these reaching even higher than the ones outside the Headmistress's office. The prospect of having to climb all the way to the top was a bit daunting, to say the least. But Abby followed after them without a word, doing her best to keep up.

"God, no wonder you're so skinny," she whispered to Harry about halfway up the stairs. "This is bloody torture."

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrow raised. "I'm not skinny, I'm lean _._ "

Abby rolled her eyes.

She didn't even have the energy to make fun of him right now.

"Just tell me we're almost there," she said, refusing to look up.

"We're almost there."

What seemed an hour later, but was perhaps only about two minutes, they finally reached the landing.

Abby had to take a moment to rest on a nearby windowsill, staring in wonder at McGonagall who looked about a hundred years old, yet didn't seem bothered in the slightest by their climb.

"Beauxbatons _is_ quite smaller than Hogwarts," McGonagall said, causing Harry to cough loudly in order to cover his laugh.

"Right," Abby said brushing her hands on her lap and standing back up. "Shall we carry on, then?"

"It's just through this door," McGonagall said, gesturing towards it. "Take as long as you need, I'll wait outside for you."

Harry thanked her before pushing the ancient wooden door open, a cloud of dust particles swirling in the light at the movement.

The room they stepped into was smaller than Abby had expected. There were large windows all around that flooded every inch with sunlight, making it rather warm and stuffy inside. And it was empty—save for a single desk in the middle upon which a thick book lay open. Beside the book was a beautiful, golden quill that floated above an inkwell, vibrating slightly and giving off an almost ethereal glow.

Harry made his way over to it, at once.

Abby watched him, unsure what the purpose of this book was or why he looked so keen to read it. She could hear him mumbling something as he rifled through several pages, pausing on a few here and there before seeming to find the right one.

"Merchant…" he said quietly, his finger running down the page and back up again. "Tyler Merchant..."

After a moment, he shook his head and straightened back up. "Nothing," he said to himself.

He then took out his wand and pointed it at the book, making what Abby assumed was a copy of the page and stuffing it into his pocket.

She was about to step forward, thinking he was finished, when he paused.

He leant over the desk as though bracing himself, his shoulders moving up and down as he took in a few slow breaths.

Abby wanted to ask if he was okay, but something stopped her. The air in the room seemed to grow tense all of a sudden. Electric, almost. And as she watched Harry, she could see that he was focusing deeply on something, completely lost in his own world.

He then picked his head up and moved toward the book once more, this time going through the pages in a much slower, more deliberate manner.

"Please," he whispered to himself, before staring down at the page he'd stopped on with an intense expression on his face.

And for a moment, everything was silent.

Abby held her breath, not knowing what she was waiting for, but waiting, nonetheless. And then:

"No," came Harry's voice.

He shook his head, stepping back from the book as though it had burnt him.

"No, no, no, no, no," he repeated, his hand digging into his hair as he started pacing back and forth.

"Harry?" she said.

"This can't be right," he said, pausing in his step. "It can't be."

He turned to look at her as though she could provide him with an answer, but Abby just stared back helplessly.

"It's not bloody right," he said, his voice almost desperate now as he searched through the book once more.

Letting out a sound of frustration, he slammed his fist down on the desk hard, making the inkwell rattle.

Abby was at a loss for what to do. She wanted to go to him, comfort him about whatever was upsetting him. But he'd resumed his pacing, once more, looking almost frantic, now. And before she could decide anything, a new voice broke through the silence, causing her to spin around, at once.

"Indeed," said McGonagall.

The older woman was standing in the doorway staring at Harry, a small frown on her face.

"It's not right...but it's not wrong, either," she said, stepping into the room. "The Quill is constantly in flux. Things can change day to day until the very last second before letters are sent out."

Harry stared at her, his lips parted.

"And  _that_ ," McGonagall said, closing the book for him, "is why we never let parents have a preview."

Abby noticed an uncomfortable look pass over Harry's face at her words.

"How did you know?" he said, his voice quiet.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. "Since when does the Head Auror travel all the way to Hogwarts to do a trainee's job?"

"We don't allow trainees to gather evidence without supervision."

"Don't be smart with me, Potter," McGonagall said. "I'm not a fool."

Harry shifted his eyes away from her. "Sorry," he said, looking rather tired all of a sudden. "I just...had to know."

McGonagall gazed at him, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"I caution you, Harry," she said, using his name for the first time, "not to fret so much over the future that you forget to heed the present. It is one of life's greatest deceptions."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He looked as though he wanted to say something to her, but was at a loss for the proper words. And before he could manage anything, McGonagall had stepped away—giving one final nod to Abby and walking back out the door.

The room was quiet for a moment after she left, Abby not daring to speak. She wanted to ask Harry what was wrong, but it just seemed too sensitive an issue.

"Are you okay?" she said finally.

He breathed out heavily and nodded. "I'll be fine," he said, pocketing his wand. "Let's just get out of here."

All too happy to leave the stuffy room, Abby followed him out the door and back down the spiral staircase.

Once they stepped into the corridor, Harry walked quickly as though with a purpose. Abby could tell he was still bothered, but she wasn't sure if she should attempt to broach the subject with him yet.

A small, much more selfish part of her was a bit disappointed that the pleasant mood they'd started the day with was now gone. She'd been so excited to experience the magic of Hogwarts—long corridors and endless staircases wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

But she quickly dispelled the thought. Whatever Harry was dealing with right now was clearly more important.

"Harry," she said, quickening her pace to catch up to him. "Harry, wait."

He paused in his step at once, nearly causing Abby to walk right into him.

"Look," he said, turning to her. "I'm sorry, I just...I need some fresh air, right now, okay?"

She nodded in earnest. "Of course," she said. "I was only wondering where we were going."

He stared at something behind her. "We're nearly there," he said in response.

Where 'there' was, Abby didn't bother to ask. But it was only one more corridor down when they reached what looked like the entrance to another tower. This one even taller than the last.

Harry then led the way up a new set of stairs, through two sets of doors, to a large balcony surrounded by a parapet. And the view that met Abby's eyes when she set foot outside after him was worth every step it took to get there.

From where they were standing, she could see everything.

The large, gated entrance to the grounds; an endless, dense forest with a small hut sitting just at the edge; a huge willow tree that seemed to vibrate in the soft wind. And in the distance, once more, the vast green pitch with tall hoops at either end.

Abby looked over at Harry who was also gazing at the scene before them. His eyes, though, seemed unfocused, as if he were thinking very deeply about something.

"That book," she said carefully, knowing she shouldn't pry, but unable to help herself. "Does it have something to do with your children?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, a light breeze ruffling through his hair as he leant against the edge of the balcony.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "It shows the list of kids who'll be attending Hogwarts. Names are written down from birth."

She frowned. "Is it a selective process, then?" she said. "Do some not make the list?"

Harry let out a humourless chuckle. "You could say that," he said.

Holding back her exasperation at his vague responses, Abby continued to prod him. "And why wouldn't they?" she said slowly.

He clicked his tongue and turned his head toward her for the first time. "Why do you think?" he said, his tone a bit harsh. "Use your head, Abby. Hogwarts is a school of  _magic._ For  _magical_ children. Do I really need to explain everything to you?"

Abby drew back from him in surprise. "What's the matter with you?" she said.

He tensed his jaw and looked away.

"Don't give me that," she said, all her grievances since that morning coming back to her full force. "You've been unclear with me all day. You dragged me from work, made me puke my guts out, led me around every inch of this never-ending school, and for what? I didn't  _ask_ to be here, Harry. You brought me!"

"I know, okay! I know!" Harry said, his voice drowning hers out.

He let out a loud grunt of frustration as he dropped his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn't plan for this to happen. I wasn't—I didn't think—"

" _What?"_ Abby said.

Harry sighed deeply as he lifted his head back up and stared at some point in the distance. It took him a moment to respond, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words aloud.

"Albus's name wasn't there," he said, his voice thick. "Which means that, currently...he doesn't have magic. That he may never have magic."

He paused for a second, his eyes a bit red as he met her gaze. "And I don't know what to do," he said, shaking his head.

Abby watched as he sat heavily down on the ground, one elbow propped up on his knee as he massaged his forehead.

Her hands itched to comfort him in some way, but she settled them in her lap, instead, sitting down across from him.

"Does that mean," she started quietly. "Is he not a wizard, then?"

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Is there any way to find out?"

"Not really," he said. "Not till he's eleven. If he doesn't get his acceptance letter, then..."

Abby cast her eyes down to her lap and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said.

Her words were met with silence.

If she were being honest with herself, she couldn't entirely grasp the situation. It was understandable that Harry would be upset, of course. But the way he looked...it was as though someone had just died.

As far as she knew, Albus was still a very healthy little boy. Sure, he didn't have magic  _right now._ But who was to say that wouldn't change?

And even if it didn't change...would that be so horrible? So unthinkable? So  _tragic_?

Most of the world lived everyday without magic...

Abby's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt though, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry bring a hand up to wipe at his face.

"Sorry," he said in a gravelly voice, as they made eye contact.

She shook her head. "Don't be," she said, trying her best to hide her shock as she placed a hand on his knee in comfort.

It was strange, Abby thought. Seeing Harry so... _vulnerable_. He always had such a rough exterior. Such a strong, almost formidable presence. Sure, she witnessed glimmers of pain and sadness every now and then, but never like this. The stark contrast of it all made her heart ache for him. Not because he was breaking down in front of her, but because it had taken him so long to do so.

Moving to his side, she sat shoulder to shoulder with him and took one of his hands in hers. "It hurts," she said softly.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"When's it going to stop?" he said.

Abby didn't respond. She didn't think she was meant to.

"It's one thing after the other...It's always one thing after the other," he said, his voice flat. "And I'm tired."

She pressed her lips together, struggling to keep her own tears at bay now.

"I'm really tired," he said, resting his head against the wall behind him.

"It could change though, couldn't it?" Abby said, trying hard to inject some hope into the situation. "That's what the headmistress said."

"Yeah, but what if it doesn't?"

"But what if it  _does,"_ she said with more force. "Harry...Harry, look at me."

He rolled his head towards her.

"What she said before she left, it's true," Abby said. "You can't live your life constantly stressing over the future. There's nothing to gain by it, and  _everything_  to lose."

"It's not that easy," he said.

"Well, of course it's not!" she said. "It's bloody hard. But you have to try."

He dug his hands in his hair and let out a long sigh. "But I promised him," he said with great effort. "I told him he was a wizard. I promised him that."

Abby felt her shoulders deflate at his words. "Then worst comes to worst, he'll forgive you," she said, leaning in so she could look at his face. "Just be there for him now. Show him how much you love him, listen to him when he's upset, just be a  _dad_ , Harry."

She squeezed his hand in hers. "That's all you have power over, I'm afraid," she said, giving him a sad smile. "But it's a lot of power."

Harry glanced down at their hands for a moment, his gaze unfocused as though mulling her words over.

"What is it?" Abby said quietly when he looked back up at her, eyes travelling across her face.

He shrugged. "You're not bad at this," he said.

"At what?"

"Saying the right thing."

Abby had to chuckle. "Well," she said. "It was bound to happen sometime."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything more on the subject. "I'm sorry about today," he said, instead, staring down at the ground. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."

She squeezed his hand once more. "I know," she said. "But it was much more important."

He nodded slowly.

"How are you feeling?" she said.

Harry ran hands across his face. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should stop worrying and just...focus on being a better dad."

"That's not what I—"

"I know," he said before she could finish. "But it's true...There's _so much_  I haven't noticed. So many things I've ignored."

Abby gave him gentle smile. "Well, you're noticing now."

Harry turned to look at her, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed. "Yeah," he said, his eyes flitting over her face for a moment. "Yeah, I am."

She felt her heartbeat quicken at the intensity of his gaze and had to look away before she did something stupid. If Harry thought it an odd movement, he didn't say anything.

"Come on," he said instead, standing up. "That's enough of your day I've wasted."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

"I promised I'd show you Hogwarts, so that's what I'm going to do," he said, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. "Now, what do you want to see first?"

Abby could tell the sentiment was a bit forced, but she still appreciated it, nonetheless.

Trying hard to concentrate as his thumb brushed over her knuckle, she glanced around her, taking in the view of the grounds once more. "What's that over there?" she said, gesturing toward the large pitch she'd seen earlier.

Harry followed her line of sight, an odd expression forming on his face. "Oh," he said, letting go of her hand. "It's, er...it's a Quidditch pitch."

Abby raised an eyebrow at him. "Some kind of sport?" she said.

He nodded.

"Well...can we go see it?"

Harry licked his lips and then glanced back at her, that same intense look in his eyes. "Erm...yeah," he said, his forehead creased. "Yeah, fine."

She frowned, not sure if she'd imagined the slight change in his demeanour.

As they walked through the castle and onto the grounds, no words were exchanged between them, creating a heavy sort of silence. Abby knew at that point that something was off and guessed that it had to do with Al. But the abruptness of Harry's behavior still left her confused. And when they'd reached the entrance to the pitch, he'd just stood there, not saying a word.

"Are we allowed in?" Abby said, wondering if there was some sort of security measure in place.

He nodded.

"Okay," she said, shifting her eyes to the side.

"Can you, erm…" Harry said suddenly, causing her to snap her head towards him. "Can you just give me a second?"

She raised her eyebrows, the tone of his voice surprising her. "Sure, yeah," she said with a nod.

He took in a few deep breaths, his chest and shoulders visibly moving as he did so. It was as though he were gathering himself up for something.

Abby wondered briefly if he'd had some sort of bad experience here in the past. And if so, why on earth he'd agreed to come.

She was just about to suggest they leave when he turned towards her, his face quite pale and a thin sheen of sweat at his forehead.

"After you, then," he said.

She looked at him in disbelief. "Harry," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "We don't have to do this."

"Why wouldn't we?" he said.

"Because," she said as if it were obvious. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

He paused, his lips parting as he glanced back at the pitch. "That's one way to put it," he muttered.

Abby felt utterly bewildered at this point. But without another word, Harry led the way onto the pitch, leaving her with no choice but to follow. She was momentarily distracted from the issue, however, as she took in her surroundings, her head turning in every direction. It was like a football pitch but much, much larger. The hoops at either end of the field were even taller up close, and the stands reached high up into the air at about the same height.

"What did you say it was called?" Abby said, over her shoulder.

"Quidditch."

A small smile came to her lips. "You lot and your names," she said, shaking her head. "First Hogwarts and now this."

Harry didn't reply.

She turned to look him and saw him staring up at one of the hoops.

"Is that where you score the goals?" she said, walking up to him.

He nodded.

"How exactly?" she said. "I mean, do you shoot something up there? They're rather high."

Harry cleared his throat. "No," he said. "You play on broomsticks."

Abby was sure her eyes went as wide as saucers. "You mean—all the way up—" she said, gesturing to the sky. " _On broomsticks?"_

He nodded again.

"Well, Christ," she whispered, bending her neck back to take a better look.

"It's like football. Except...not really," Harry said quietly. "It's better."

She glanced back at him, surprised by the feeling behind his words. With the way he'd been acting since they'd got there, she would've thought he wanted nothing to do with the sport.

Perhaps she'd been mistaken.

"You used to play?" she said.

"Mmm."

"But not anymore?"

He shook his head.

Abby stared at him as his eyes travelled across the length of the pitch. "Why'd you stop?" she said.

He gave a dry sort of smile. "That's the question, isn't it?"

She wanted to say that, yes, obviously, that was the question, but she held back. Something in her could see that he wanted to explain, but perhaps, just couldn't find the words.

"I haven't set foot on a Quidditch pitch in three and a half years," he said, after a small bout of silence.

The number immediately rang a bell in Abby's mind.

"Your wife," she said as she recalled Harry's drunk phone call from the other night. "But what does she have to do with…"

"She used to play professionally," he said.

Realisation dawned on Abby, at once.

Setting aside the fact that there were  _professional_  Quidditch teams, she placed a hand in his, giving him a look of sympathy. "It's not the same being here without her," she said.

Harry gave a quick upturn of his lips and glanced down at the ground. "I wish it were that simple," he said.

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Maybe then life would be..." he said, hesitating for a moment. "Well...not easier, exactly, but...clearer, I suppose."

Abby met his words with silence, unsure of how to respond.

"I'm not making sense, I know," Harry said without looking at her.

"How did Ginny…" she began carefully, not knowing how best to phrase it.

"Die?" he finished for her.

She nodded once more.

Harry seemed very interested in his shoes as he kicked a few pebbles away from the edge of the grass. "It was an accident."

The words caused Abby's stomach to twist uncomfortably.

"She was playing a match," he said. "Got hit in the head, broom malfunctioned."

His voice was monotone as he explained, as though he were simply reading from a textbook.

"We were all there," he added quietly.

Abby shut her eyes. "God, Harry, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He didn't respond at first, still gazing intently at the ground.

"The thing she loved the most," he said after a moment, lifting his head back up. "That's what killed her."

Abby stared at him, noting the sudden weariness in his posture.

"You loved it, too," she said.

He gave a small nod. "I did," he said. "I still…"

He couldn't seem to bring himself to say it.

"You still do," Abby said.

Harry let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his face. "I wish I didn't," he said, dropping his hands back to his sides. "I wish James didn't want to learn how to fly...I wish I didn't want to teach him."

Abby placed a hand on his back, rubbing gently up and down as she leant into him.

She wanted desperately to provide some words of comfort. But she was at a loss for what to say. She just couldn't imagine what it would feel like for something that once caused so much joy to bring so much pain.

It was cruel.

"Would you do it?" Harry said suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie. "If you were me...would you ever go near a broom again?"

Abby opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. "I…" she said

"Just tell me the truth," he said.

"I don't know," she said, giving him an apologetic look.

He licked his lips and nodded.

"I mean...I know this is completely different to your situation," she said before she could stop herself. "But...when my mum died...it was hard for me to even look at a piano for a long time."

Harry's face softened a bit at her words.

"Just the memory of her, you know?" Abby said with a small frown. "All those moments we shared, sitting on that bench together. It was almost unbearable."

She paused for a moment and glanced down, swallowing hard.

"And then one day...I don't know, I just—did it," she said with a shrug. "I sat down and played for the first time in a year. And—I broke down, of course—but...it just felt so  _unbelievably_  good."

Harry stared at her intently, as though hanging on her every word.

"It was like I could feel her with me again," Abby said, a small lump rising in her throat. "As if I were breathing life into her..."

"And every moment since then, it's been the same," she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a half-smile. "Music...it's the only real thing that connects us anymore."

A small breath escaped Harry's lips, and he seemed to be contemplating her words for a moment.

"I want that," he said finally, his voice a bit rough.

Abby gazed into his eyes and nodded. "Then you should do it."

* * *

The walk down the field was a quiet one.

Abby could practically feel the tension radiating off Harry, and she just hoped that she was helping him make the right decision.

"The brooms here are terrible compared to my old one," Harry said, breaking the silence for the first time. "But they'll do."

"Are they safe?" she said, looking up at him.

He nodded.

They reached a large shed, and Harry pulled his wand out to unlock it.

Inside were dozens of broomsticks ranging in size, colour, and style. And absolutely none of them looked like they'd be of any use for sweeping.

Abby had to quell her excitement at the thought of riding one as she watched Harry inspect them all. What he was looking for, she wasn't sure. But by the way he handled them, she could tell he was experienced at this sort of thing.

When he finally settled on one, he led the way back onto the pitch.

He took out his wand again and pointed it at himself, transforming his robes into a white shirt and jeans, and then doing the same for her.

"Easier to fly this way," he said.

Abby's heart skipped a beat.

Did that mean she'd be flying too?

"Right," Harry said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "I can't believe I'm going to do this."

She offered him an encouraging smile. "The first time's the hardest," she said as she watched him run his fingers across the handle. "But it gets easier."

"You sure about that?" he said, looking up at her.

"No."

A smile stretched across his face, but she could tell by the way that he kept wiping his hands on his jeans that he was nervous.

"Right," he said again as he straddled the broomstick. "Here goes nothing."

Abby grinned at the sight, causing him to look at her in question.

"It's just...you're a wizard riding a broom," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

His features seemed to relax a bit. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Yeah, I am."

And with that, he closed his eyes for a moment before leaning forward on the handle and kicking off.

A strong rush of air followed after him, making Abby's hair fly into her face. She hurriedly brushed it away as she squinted to see Harry zooming straight up into the sky.

The speed at which he was going nearly took her breath away. Witches on broomsticks never seemed to go that fast in the movies. But here was Harry, almost a blur in the sky.

He flew in wide circles at first, taking laps around the large pitch. But as time went by, she could see that he was growing more confident. He shot up in spirals, darted up and down in straight lines, did little loops and barrel rolls. It was the most incredible thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

He was the most incredible thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

Every now and then, he slowed down long enough for her to catch a glimpse of his face. And the sight of it caused her heart to swell. He just seemed so happy. Happier than she'd ever seen him before.

It was a good look on him.

Abby smiled to herself at the thought. She realised quickly that she could get used to this whole flying thing. Especially when Harry landed on the ground next to her several minutes later with windblown hair, flushed cheeks, and a bright smile.

 _God, he's absolutely gorgeous,_ she thought, her eyes shamelessly roving over him.

But she barely had time to appreciate the sight as he tossed the broom to the side and walked straight towards her, giving her a strong hug that nearly lifted her off the ground.

"Somebody's happy," Abby laughed, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled at her, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Thank you," he said, his tone serious. "I couldn't have—I mean...you…"

He broke off and shook his head.

"Say no more," Abby said, holding up a hand. "I know how you can repay me."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and then laughed. "Yeah?" he said with a grin that made her heart skip. "How so?"

She walked over to the broom and picked it up. "Give me a ride," she said, tossing it at him.

He caught it easily without looking, his eyes still on her.

Abby could tell that he was battling with the idea in his mind, and wondered if perhaps she'd pushed things too far.

It was too soon, after all.

The whole reason he'd even considered this was to connect with Ginny, not her.

Not to mention, it was an extremely sensitive subject for him, and it was tactless to even—

"Yeah, sure."

Abby's thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

"Really?" she said, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

Harry nodded.

"You don't have to force yourself," she said quickly. "It wasn't right of me to ask."

He gave her a small smile. "Well, you didn't ask, did you?" he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It was more of a demand."

Abby looked away, feeling embarrassed.

"Come on," he said, throwing his leg over the broom and patting the spot behind him.

She looked back at him. "Are you sure?" she said. "We don't have to do this."

"I'm sure," he said.

Abby let out a small breath and nodded. She then carefully approached the broom and sat down behind him.

"Hold on tight to me," Harry said over his shoulder. "I'll go slow at first."

She did as she was told, feeling a flutter of excitement in her stomach now.

And then they were off.

It was pretty mild at first, a bit like going on a ride at an amusement park. They stayed close to the ground, going at a minimum speed. It was rather relaxing.

"You ready to kick it up a bit?" Harry said.

"How much is a bit?"

Harry chuckled. "However much you want it to be."

Abby considered this for a moment before leaning forward to speak into his ear. "Show me your worst," she whispered.

And Harry did just that.

It was hard to think about anything as he shot them straight up into the air, the wind rushing past Abby's face with an intensity she'd never felt before, her stomach dropping as if she'd missed several steps on a staircase, the feeling of weightlessness making her want to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.

But there was one thought that popped occasionally into the back of her mind in those moments where Harry slowed down just enough to let her to breathe normally again.

A thought that made her heart speed up in a way that no broomstick ride ever could.

Because she could've sworn she'd seen it.

Right before he'd sped them upwards to the sky.

A blush on the back of his neck as she'd spoken into his ear.

* * *

"...and this is the Forbidden Forest," Harry said, gesturing towards it. "It's got creatures in there you wouldn't even believe."

"I think I'd believe anything at this point," Abby said, her chin resting on his shoulder as they flew above it. "What kind of creatures? Are they dangerous? Is that why it's forbidden?"

"Well," he said. "There's centaurs...unicorns...these giant spiders called Acromantalus—"

Abby grimaced.

"—Werewolves, Thestrals—"

"What are those?" she said.

"Er…sort of...winged horses that look like lizards," he said

Abby wasn't sure she had the imagination to picture that.

"And yes," Harry continued. "Most of the creatures in there are dangerous which is why it's off limits to students."

"Have you ever been?" she said.

"About seven or eight times."

" _What?"_  Abby said, turning her head towards him.

Harry simply smiled.

"I didn't peg you as a trouble-maker," Abby said thoughtfully, turning her head back to gaze at the forest.

He shrugged. "Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do."

"Okay, there's definitely a story there..."

Harry grinned. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime," he said as he steered the broom away.

"See that tree over there," he said, pointing to the large willow she'd seen earlier. "That can kill you."

Abby threw her hands up in the air. "Is everything in this school dangerous?"

He let out a loud laugh, not bothering to answer as they continued flying across the grounds.

"And here's the Black Lake," he said. "Also home to countless creatures—some dangerous, others not so much."

Abby shook her head fondly.

"If we wait here for a bit, you might even see—"

" _What was that?_ " she said, nearly losing her balance on the broom.

Harry's arm instantly flew behind him to steady her, holding onto her with a vice-like grip.

"Sorry," she breathed, wrapping her arms tighter around him. "I just—I thought I saw—"

"It's the Giant Squid," Harry said, his voice a bit subdued, now. "It lives in the lake."

Abby swallowed hard and nodded.

"Anyway," he said, placing a hand on top of hers against his stomach. "We should probably go. I, er...I still have to get back to work."

"Of course," she said, hating herself for ruining the pleasant mood they'd been having.

Harry landed them slowly and carefully onto the Quidditch pitch where he returned the broom back to its place in the shed.

"We'll have to walk back to the front gates to apparate," he said.

"Sure," Abby said, happy to spend as much time at Hogwarts as possible. As much time with  _him_ as possible _._  "At least this time I'll actually get to see them."

He gave her a small smile and nodded.

They walked in silence for a while, Abby taking in some last glances of the grounds, wanting to savour it as much as she could. She didn't know if he was planning on bringing her here again, and a part of her was too afraid to ask lest he say no.

There was still so much to explore, so many things she'd wanted to see. She couldn't get enough of it.

"Listen," Harry said, turning towards her as they reached the gate. "I know today was completely mad, but...I'm glad you were with me. And…I'm sorry. I wanted this to be an amazing day for you, and it wasn't."

Abby gave him an affectionate smile, reaching up hesitantly to place a hand on his cheek. "It was one of the best days of my life, Harry," she said.

His face relaxed, and he let out a sniff of amusement. "You're not just saying that to spare my feelings, are you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why on earth would I spare you?" she said. "After everything you put me through today."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she quickly cut him off.

"I'm kidding!" she said through her laughter, hitting his shoulder. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Harry smiled as he looked down at the ground. "Next time will be better, I promise."

"You'll bring me again?" she said, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

His head shot up and he gave her a look of disbelief. "Of course, I will. You haven't even seen the half of it," he said as if she were insane. "I still have to show you all my favourite snogging spots, don't I?"

"Oh, God," she said, rolling her eyes as he chuckled.

"And, erm...look," he said, sobering up suddenly. "I was thinking—for a few days, now—that...if you wanted to go to your dad's wedding, well...I can go with you."

Abby took a step back in surprise. That was the last thing she'd expected him to say.

How long had he been thinking about this? Had he been waiting until now to tell her? Did he just feel so guilty about today that he felt like he had to repay her somehow?

"What brought that on?" she said quietly, unsure how to feel at the moment.

"I've just been thinking about it," he said with a shrug. "A lot."

Abby frowned. "Why?"

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged again. "I know what it's like having crap family members," he said with a sad smile. "And I definitely know what it's like to have to go to a wedding filled with them. It's...not something you should do alone."

Her face softened at his words.

"You said it was at the end of the month, yeah?"

"This Saturday."

He nodded. "Well, then...If you decide to go, I'll be there," he said.

Abby shifted her eyes away, blinking rapidly.

"Thanks," she said, not trusting herself to say more, at the moment.

But out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small smile form on his face as he stared at her.

"Anything for you," he said, quietly.


	26. Chapter 26

"But  _why_?"

"Because I said so."

"But why did you say so?"

"I don't need a reason."

Harry walked out of the bathroom with Lily following closely behind him.

"But it's not  _fair_ ," she said as he grabbed his cloak from the wardrobe. "I wanna go, too, Daddy. Pleaselet me go! _"_

"Lily..."

"Daddy,  _please_  let me go. Please, please,  _please_ —"

" _Lily_ ," Harry said as she latched onto his arm. "Stop it. You're doing my head in."

"But I—!"

"Ready, Dad?"

They both turned around to find Al standing in the doorway—backpack on his shoulders, cloak on his arm, and a fake wand tucked into the waistband of his trousers.

Lily let out a frustrated whine at the sight.

"Look at you," Harry said, his face melting into a smile. "Well-prepared like a proper Auror should be."

Al gave him a smile in return as Harry walked over and tied the cloak around the boy's shoulders.

"I'll meet you downstairs, okay?" Harry said, patting him on the arm. And then in a louder voice, added: "We've got a very  _long_ and  _boring_ day ahead of us."

Lily perked up a bit at this.

"Right," Al said with an exaggerated nod.

Harry winked at him and then watched as he turned around and headed down the stairs.

He knew bringing Al to work wasn't the most ideal way to spend quality time together. But after everything that had happened at Hogwarts, he couldn't bear to wait another second, never mind until the weekend, to be alone with him.

" _Just be a dad, Harry."_

He nodded to himself, feeling a familiar sense of calm wash over him as the words replayed in his mind.

They'd been replaying a lot the past few days. Ever since Abby had spoken them atop the Astronomy Tower in a voice so earnest, he had no choice but to believe her.

She was rather convincing that way.

Always had been, really.

Harry smiled to himself at the thought before shaking his head and focusing back on Lily who was, at the moment, lying face down against his pillow.

"Flower," he said, walking over to her and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "You still mad at me?"

She nodded.

He placed a hand on her back. "Remember how I told you today was Albus's day, and that he was going to come to work with me?"

She shook her head.

"And that next week, it could be your turn?"

She shrugged.

Harry let out a sigh. "Come on, Lil, up you get," he said, pulling her into a sitting position as if she were a ragdoll.

He brushed her hair out of her face and looked her in the eyes. "You don't like me right now," he said. "I get that."

She scowled at him.

"But I need you to come downstairs. James is waiting for you to floo to Grandmum's house, and I have to get to work," Harry said. "And besides...there  _are_  only a few days left before Teddy leaves for Hogwarts…"

He didn't need to say anymore. The words 'Teddy' and 'Hogwarts' were enough to make Lily's eyes go wide. She immediately jumped off the bed and raced out of the room, all thoughts of coming to work with him forgotten.

Harry watched her go with a sad smile, a silly part of him wanting to follow after her.

He never imagined a day would come when he would dread the first of September as much he used to long for it. But here he was, mourning the end of the summer holidays, filled with that familiar feeling of guilt that he should have done more. Been there more. Appreciated it more.

He would have to make these last few days extra special for Teddy before he left for Hogwarts. He wasn't sure exactly how yet, but he was determined to make them extra special.

With various ideas flitting through his mind, Harry grabbed the rest of his things and made his way downstairs into the sitting room. James and Lily were already at the fireplace, Lily looking rather anxious to leave now. And as soon as she spotted him, she ran up and gave him a quick hug and kiss goodbye before dragging James into the grate with her.

"Be good for Grandmum," Harry called out pointlessly as they flooed away. He shook his head, and then turned to Al with a smile. "Ready?"

The boy nodded, and Harry led them into the back garden where they could apparate to the Ministry together.

"Am I going to get to see you duel anyone?" Al asked once they entered the Atrium moments later.

Harry took his hand and walked toward the gathering crowd of witches and wizards waiting to get onto the lifts. "If you want me to," he said with amusement. "But that's not really what I do anymore."

"What  _do_  you do?" Al said at once.

They squeezed into one of the lifts after a large group of wizards dressed in brightly coloured robes who were talking animatedly about last night's Quidditch match.

"Well," Harry said. "Look over cases, mostly. Figure out who the bad guy—or  _girl_ —is. What they did, how they did it. That sort of stuff. And...you know, just making sure everybody else is doing their job right. Keeping the place from falling apart."

Al frowned in thought. "Do you fight anyone?"

"Not really. Not like before," Harry said as the large group pushed their way around them to exit onto Level 7. "But I do teach people how to."

"Can you teach me?"

Harry knitted his eyebrows together and glanced down at him.

"One day, yeah. If you want," he said, squeezing his hand and looking back up. "I'll teach you whatever I can."

Al seemed content with this answer.

As they got off on Level 2, Harry led the way down the corridor to Auror Headquarters. Al's head was swiveling left and right as he took in the boisterous atmosphere around them. And Harry was caught off guard for a moment by a sudden rush of nostalgia. He could remember, vividly, the last time he'd brought Al to work with him.

It was November. Just a week before Ginny died.

He couldn't believe nearly four years had gone by since then.

Shaking his head of the thought, Harry greeted Anna with a quick smile, pausing for a moment to let her talk to Al before leading him into his office.

"Mornings are usually quite dull," Harry said as Al took the seat across from him. "I'll catch up on paperwork, read through some files, sit in on a few meetings. But then around midday, we can take a break, get something to eat. And...hopefully the rest of the afternoon will be a bit more interesting for you."

Al shrugged. "I don't mind reading," he said. "I can help you if you want."

"Well of course you're going to help, that's why I brought you here," Harry said, looking at him as if he were being silly. "I'm not just paying you to sit there and look cute."

"You're paying me?" Al said, eyes wide.

"That's right," Harry said with a nod. "I want you to start with these memos. If something sounds important, put it in this pile. If something doesn't sound important, put it in the other."

Al furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the twitching paper airplanes in front of him. "What if I get it wrong?" he said, looking up at him.

Harry leaned in a bit so he could meet his eyes. "I trust your judgement," he said, giving him a look of encouragement. "I'll be reading them all eventually. I just want the important ones first."

Al sat up a bit straighter and nodded, looking for all the world like he'd just been bestowed a great responsibility.

They worked together for a while after that, Al asking questions every so often about words he didn't know or simply making comments about what he was reading.

He had a habit of talking to himself—something Harry had noticed before, but never fully appreciated. It made him smile in amusement to hear.

"Wi-zang…no," Al said, shaking his head. "Wisen-gam...gam…ot?"

"Wizengamot," Harry said, pronouncing it correctly for him as he dipped his quill in the inkwell.

Al nodded. "Wizengamot, wizengamot, wizengamot..." he repeated to himself. "What does it mean?"

"It's a group of witches and wizards," Harry said, signing the bottom of the parchment and rolling it up. "They make the laws that we follow, and they deal with the people who break them."

This caused Al to glance up. "You mean...like putting them in Azkaban?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him as he grabbed another file. "Where'd you hear about Azkaban from?"

"James," Al said as if it were obvious. "He said Teddy told him."

"Mmm..." Harry said, already preparing to do some damage control. "And what exactly did James share with you?"

Al gave a half-shrug. "He said it's a really big jail in the middle of nowhere. And that a bunch of different creatures guard it so you can't ever leave, like trolls and dragons and these things that suck out your soul," he said, his voice animated. "And he said you could go there for all sorts of reasons. Like cheating or stealing or killing someone. And kids can go there, too, if they do too much accidental magic or something."

Harry massaged his forehead.

"Is it all true, Dad?" Al said, looking at him in earnest.

"Some of it," Harry said with a small nod. "Most of it, isn't. Like going to prison for doing accidental magic. That's not a crime and James knows that. He's just messing with you."

Al frowned. "Oh," he said. "But...what if…"

Harry stared at him. "What if, what?"

"What if you..." Al started again, shifting in his seat. "You do so much of it that...you do something bad?"

"Like what?" Harry said, putting his quill down and giving the boy his full attention.

Al shifted his eyes away from him. "Like...like when I was little, when Mum died, and we were at the Burrow. And I made all that glass explode and almost hurt everybody," he said, still looking away from him. "What if that was so bad that the Wizengamot people decided to punish me for it? And they're going to put me in Azkaban, and that's why I can't do magic?"

He said all of this in one breath, as if afraid he wouldn't have a chance to get it out.

Harry clenched his jaw tight for a moment, and then spoke with forced calm. "Did James give you that idea?"

Al met his eyes but didn't say anything.

"Answer me, Albus," he said, leaning forward in his seat. "Whose idea was it?"

"Mine," Al said quietly.

They stared at each other for a moment, Harry's nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily.

"He only mentioned accidental magic," Al said. "But I remembered what you and Nana said before. About the last time I did it."

Harry wasn't sure he believed him, but he decided there were far more important things to handle right now.

"Well, it's not true," he said forcefully. "So get that out of your head. You're not being punished in any way, you understand? Accidental magic is just that—an _accident."_

"And how many times have I told you not to believe everything James says," Harry added, causing Al to stare down in his lap as though he were being chastised.

"Albus, there's—" Harry said before breaking off into a sigh.

He shook his head.

_What am I doing?_

The silence that followed his words made Harry realise just how loud he'd been speaking, and he suddenly felt very stupid.

He was handling this all wrong.

Feeling frustrated with himself, he shut his eyes and rubbed at his forehead once more, trying to figure out how to fix this.

_Listen to him when he's upset,_ Abby had told him, her voice still clear in his head.

Why was that so bloody hard?

"Al," Harry said again, his tone much more subdued.

The boy looked up at him.

There'd been so many chances in the past for Harry to listen. And he had. He needed Al to understand that he had. That he wasn't just diminishing his problems and making empty promises. That he was Harry's top priority.

He needed him to understand that.

"I know," Harry said after a moment, his words heavy. "I know you're worried...and frustrated. And I know that it seems like nobody knows what's going on, and you just want answers. I know that, son."

Harry walked around the desk and knelt down next to Al's chair, placing a hand on his arm. "But I'm here with you, okay? I'm going to do everything in my power to figure this out," he said, levelling him with a fervent look. "And I've got  _a lot_  of power."

Al glanced up from his lap. "Cause you're Harry Potter?" he said.

Harry smiled but shook his head. "Because I'm your dad," he said, brushing the boy's hair away from his eyes. "I'd tear down the world for you, mate."

Feeling his throat tighten a bit, Harry pulled Al in for a hug and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a long breath.

And in that position, they stayed, Harry absently wondering if he could keep Al in his arms forever, shielding him from the rest of the world.

If only it could be that simple.

"Listen," Harry said, pulling away slightly to look at him. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but...no matter what happens—magic or not—I'll love you just the same."

Al opened his mouth to protest, but Harry shook his head. "Doesn't mean we're not going to try," he said quickly, holding his hands up. "I just want you to understand, all right? Magic is only one part of who you are. And frankly...it doesn't even rank up there in the top five parts."

Al gave him a bewildered look, causing Harry to chuckle.

"I love you, you know that?" he said with a warm look.

"I know, Dad," Al said, shaking his head as if it were obvious. "Love you, too."

Harry smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm here anytime," he said. "Any question you have. Anything you want to say. I'm here."

Al stared at him for a moment and then nodded, giving him a small smile in return.

With that, Harry stood back up and returned to his desk, feeling much more satisfied with the way things had gone.

As he sat back down, Harry reached for the pile of memos that Al had sorted for him and proceeded to skim through the important ones first. There were various notices about upcoming trials, some updates on evidence analyses from the Department of Mysteries, and one complaint about a charmed mirror in the women's locker rooms that was starting to grow quite rude with its comments.

Overall, Al did an excellent job of sifting through everything—something Harry made sure to compliment him on.

As he opened one of the last memos from the non-urgent pile, however, Harry paused, running his hands through his hair as he reread the line multiple times.

_Made contact with Hr. Buchanan. Agreed to come in for statement._

_-Davis_

Harry's mind was drawn back to his last conversation with Davis, surprised that she had managed to locate the man. From what little Harry knew of him, Buchanan seemed like a seedy sort of bloke. No self-respecting healer would ever claim to be able to treat squibs, but there were multiple accounts of him doing exactly that in the books Harry had been researching. It was never explicit, of course. A few magical-supplement potions here, a few strengthening spells there. All under the guise of standard treatment protocols. When in reality, something much darker was taking place. Something the books could only speculate on.

Something Harry was determined to figure out.

And it all tied back to this case.

Carl Merchant—accused of murdering his wife and son. The latter of which was almost certainly a Squib based on ties with Buchanan and the absence of his name on Hogwarts' list.

A Squib subjected to multiple medical procedures that may have had the potential to destroy him rather than heal him.

If 'heal' was the correct term to use, here.

Merchant may very well have been innocent of the murders. But if Harry's theories were correct...then he as good as killed them.

The thought weighed heavy on Harry's mind as he glanced over at Al. And for a moment, he considered— _truly_ considered—what it would be like if Al never regained his magic.

He would love him just the same, of course. There was no lie in that.

But in the deepest recesses of his heart, Harry couldn't deny that he would mourn for him and the life he would never experience.

Because even with all the darkness and all the pain, Harry shuddered to think what his own life would have been like if it weren't for magic.

He'd be nowhere.

No  _one._

And he couldn't have that for his son. He just couldn't.

Harry held his head in his hands and stared down at his desk, hating himself for being unable to even accept this as a possibility. It made him feel despicable, shameful,  _prejudiced_ , even. He'd spent nearly half his life fighting against these sorts of attitudes, and yet here he was.

Harry Potter. Not wanting a Squib for a son.

_But that's not it! That's_ not  _it._

_Then what is it?_ Harry's mind answered back.

He closed his eyes, rubbing them with the heels of his hands until he started seeing stars behind his eyelids.

_I just want him to have a good life…_

The thought echoed loudly in his mind as if taunting him.

And then a voice, much quieter, replied back in earnest:

_Then give him one._

Harry felt something in his chest squeeze in response, and he picked his head back up, letting his gaze fall on Al.

He was attempting to make a paper airplane similar to the ones piled on the desk, his face set in a concentrated frown and his mouth slightly open.

He was always so curious. So clever.

Harry loved that about him.

"Hey, you got it," he said with a smile as Al launched his finished product in the air.

The boy looked up at him in surprise, not realising he was being watched. "It wasn't too hard," he said with a shrug. "I just copied the purple ones."

"That's plenty hard, that is," Harry said, grabbing some parchment. "I'm terrible at it. Watch."

And Harry proceeded to make several paper airplanes, launching each one into the air and watching them spin wildly in place before petering down to the floor.

Al seemed to find great amusement in this, if his little snickers were anything to go by. But he eventually took pity and showed him exactly how to fold the paper.

Harry was grateful for the reprieve from his thoughts. There was no use for them now. No use for them, at all, really.

He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

As the rest of the morning trickled on, Harry continued to give Al small tasks around the office, pleased to note a growing confidence in the boy as he took on each one.

"What do you say we break for lunch now, eh?" Harry said some time later, stretching out his back.

"Sure," Al said. He'd taken a break from working and was now playing with one of Harry's Sneakoscopes, spinning it on the desk like a top.

"Anywhere you have in mind?" Harry said.

Al shrugged. "Dunno."

Harry nodded slowly, having his own suggestion, but feeling a bit hesitant to bring it up.

He really only wanted to go because he had something to tell her.

Sure, he could just call, but...it seemed like something he should say in person.

"Would you, maybe, want to go to the place Abby works?" Harry said, watching the boy's face for any signs of displeasure. "You can say no. I won't mind at all."

Al shrugged again. "Sure," he said, trying to spin all the Sneakoscopes at once, now.

Harry let out a small exhale and smiled. "Great," he said with a nod. "They've got good food there—and great milkshakes, as you know. And I just needed to talk to Abby about something, so I figured...why not do both at once."

Al looked up at him. "Okay."

Harry nodded again.

"Well," he said, standing up and shedding his outer robe. "Ready when you are."

Al hopped out of his chair and followed suit before they both exited the office and walked towards the lifts.

* * *

"After you," Harry said, holding the door open for Al.

Harry glanced around as he led them over to a table near the window and spotted Abby on the other side of the room, chatting with a customer.

"What do you feel like?" Harry said as he and Al sat down.

"Cheese toastie."

He ordered the same thing wherever they went.

"You got it," Harry said with a wink.

They both settled back in their chairs, then, and waited for Abby—Al entertaining himself by reading the menu aloud and Harry staring out the window.

Several minutes passed by without anyone approaching their table.

Harry glanced up at one point to see Abby still in conversation and then shifted his eyes over to the back counter where Maggie, her coworker, was situated.

He made eye contact with her, and she gave him an awkward sort of look, as if unsure whether he wanted her to do something.

_Taking our orders would be nice_ , Harry thought as he glanced down at his watch. He didn't want to rush anyone, but he was on a bit of a tight schedule today. His trip to Hogwarts earlier this week had definitely taken longer than it was supposed to, and he'd been playing catch-up every day since then because of it. He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

Or rather, he would if somebody at work ever brought it up.

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts at that moment, and Harry turned to look at Abby once more. His eyes settling, this time, on the man she was speaking to.

He looked about Harry's age. Maybe mid to late-twenties. With a heavy beard, thick square-rimmed glasses, and clothing that looked a little too tight for comfort. He was staring up at Abby with a wide smile, apparently having said something funny judging by their laughter.

"Dad?"

"Mmm?" Harry said, snapping his head away from them.

Al was gesturing up at Maggie who had finally approached their table and was looking at Harry expectantly.

"I said, can I get you anything?" she said, putting unnecessary emphasis on her words.

"Er...a cheese toastie," Harry said, shifting in his chair. "Make that two."

She nodded and turned around.

He watched with a slight frown as she made a detour towards Abby and whispered something in her ear, but he turned head away before they could make eye contact.

A part of him felt a bit annoyed that Abby had to be told that he was there. She'd feel obligated now to come and talk to him, and he didn't want to put her in that position. She seemed perfectly happy talking to her friend. It would be selfish of Harry to deprive her of such fun company.

Nevertheless, he could hear her walking towards them, and he instantly schooled his features into a look of nonchalance.

"Well, if isn't my favourite Potters," Abby said, appearing in front of them with her hands on her hips and a bright smile on her face.

She winked at Al who gave her a small smile, in return.

"Hi," Harry said, greeting her with a nod. "Maggie took our orders already."

"Oh?  _Maggie_ , is it?" Abby said with a teasing look. "Someone's finally paying attention, I see."

Harry shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow at him before taking a seat at their table. "So," she said, looking at Al. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Al glanced at Harry. He seemed hesitant, as if unsure how to act around her without James there to set the tone.

"Al came with me to work today," Harry said, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "I wanted to spend some time together, andI needed a little help around the office, so..."

Harry and Abby's eyes met. He knew they were both thinking about their last conversation on the Astronomy Tower.

She gave him a soft smile, and it instantly seemed to ease whatever tension had built up in him over the last few minutes.

"Well, I think it's great you're helping your dad," Abby said, turning to the boy. "Bit all over the place, I imagine, isn't he?"

Al gave a half-shrug and looked away from her.

Harry opened his mouth to apologise, but then stopped as he saw Abby's eyes lingering on Al for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Everything all right?" Harry said, causing her to look at him.

She blinked a few times and nodded. "Yeah, sorry," she said, giving him a quick smile.

Harry frowned but didn't say anything as Maggie had just come into view, holding two plates and setting them down on the table.

"Enjoy," she said with a bright smile.

He thought he saw her mouth something to Abby before she turned around and left, but he didn't bother finding out what.

"So," Abby said, then, folding her arms against the table and leaning forward. "I didn't see you both come in. Were you here long?"

Harry shook his head. "Five minutes tops?" he said. "Didn't feel long."

"It was eleven minutes," Al said, finally speaking up.

Harry gave him an encouraging smile despite wishing in that moment that he'd just kept quiet.

"Eleven minutes?" Abby said rounding on Harry. "Why didn't you call me over? That's eleven minutes more I could've spent with you both."

"You were talking to someone, I couldn't just interrupt," Harry said, pleased to hear some disappointment in her voice.

And then, leaning back in his chair, he added: "Friend of yours, is he?"

Abby opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. "Why do you ask?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean 'why'? I'm only curious."

She gazed at him for a moment, her lips pressed together. "Yeah, he's a friend, I suppose," she said with a shrug. "A regular that comes in. Called Bradley."

"Never seen him before," Harry said.

"Well, you're not here very often anymore, are you?" she said. "Not weekdays at least."

Harry had nothing to say to that.

He could've sworn he'd detected a slight coolness to her tone, but it was gone the next second as she turned to Albus.

"Adults are dreadfully boring, aren't they?" she told him with a look of sympathy.

Al paused in the action of licking his fingers clean, looking surprised that she'd addressed him. "Erm...they're okay," he said, as if trying not to offend her.

Abby grinned at him. "Would you like anything besides that toastie?" she said, handing him a napkin and clearing his crumbs away. "A milkshake, perhaps? I know you like those."

Al's eyes darted up towards Harry who nodded that it was fine.

"Great," Abby said, tapping the table. "I'll just be a sec."

She got up and walked towards the back counter, leaving Harry to stare after her in thought.

Maybe he was imagining it, but she seemed a bit different with Al today. The way she looked at him and spoke to him. It was warmer, somehow. More affectionate.

Perhaps she just felt bad for him after everything Harry had told her. Or maybe she was growing more comfortable with his kids, in general.

Whatever the case, he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"There you are," Abby said, returning not long after and placing the milkshake on the table.

Harry brushed his thoughts aside as Abby began to make conversation with Al the same way she'd done with James and Lily when they'd visited. It was the first time the three of them were alone together, he realised. And Abby was clearly taking advantage of that.

"I don't like school as much as James thinks I do," Al said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, shyness all but gone. "But I don't really mind it either."

"Well, what parts  _do_  you like?" Abby said, moving the now empty glass away from the edge of the table.

Al scrunched up his face in thought. "Well, I like spelling...and P.E..." he said, numbering them off on his fingers. "Oh and reading! I really like reading."

"I did hear about that, yeah," Abby told him with a smile. "Your dad says  _all the time_  how good of a reader you are. Won't shut up about it actually."

Al turned a bit red at that, trying to hold back a smile.

"It's true," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Top of his class in reading."

Al shrugged. "Allison Parker's read more books than me, though," he said. "Even though  _mine_ are usually longer. Her last three weren't even chapter books."

"Pathetic!" Abby said, eyebrows raised.

Al sat up a bit straighter at that and nodded. "It's okay, though. It doesn't really matter," he said, brushing it off. "The prize was stupid, anyway."

Before Abby could respond with what was sure to be a scathing remark, they were interrupted once more by Maggie who leant down to whisper something in Abby's ear before handing her a piece of paper.

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering why the pair of them were acting like schoolgirls today. As soon as Maggie walked away, he levelled Abby with a look. "What's going on?" he said.

She looked up at him with a slight blush on her cheeks. "What?"

"What's with all the whispers and passing notes?" he said. "Are we suddenly fifteen again?"

" _We_  would never be fifteen," she said with a grin, gesturing between them. "I'd be fifteen, and you'd be twenty."

"Or you would be fifteen, and she would be ten!" Al said, jumping into the conversation again.

Harry clenched his jaw, feeling very annoyed all of a sudden.

"And anyway," Abby added, looking down at the piece of paper in her hand as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's not a note, it's a phone number."

A few seconds of silence followed her words.

"Whose?" Harry said casually, despite already knowing the answer.

"Bradley's."

Their eyes met once more.

"Are you going to keep it?"

"I don't see why not," she said. "He's a friend."

Harry crossed his arms. "Yeah, a friend who—after all this time—decided to give you his phone number  _today_."

"Why do you say that with emphasis?"

"Because it needs to be emphasised," he said, spreading his hands out. "Seems hewants more than friendship, doesn't he? He saw you talking to another bloke today and felt threatened, so he gave you his number to show his real intentions towards you."

Abby gave him an incredulous look. "You say that like it's so horrible."

"It—! I mean...it's not  _horrible,_ it's—" Harry said, trying to find the right words but failing. "Well, why wait so long, anyway? What is he, 'staking his claim on you'?

He made sure to say this last part with air quotes.

"Because it sure seems that way," he said with a nod. "And if so, that's not the sort of guy you want anything to do with. Trust me, he…he'll only see you as a prize."

Abby raised his eyebrows at him. "What are you, my father?"

Harry felt his face go red.

"Wha—I—that's  _not_ —"

"Relax," she said, turning her head away from him. "I'm kidding."

But nothing about her tone suggested she was kidding in the slightest.

"Anyway," she said. "That's a lot you've deduced from just ten minutes of observing him. I suppose it's good that you're a—whatever you are."

"Auror," Al said.

Both Harry and Abby looked at him, forgetting for a second that he was sitting there listening to their conversation.

Harry cleared his throat. "Right, well," he said. "Probably best to discuss this later."

"Or not at all," Abby said.

He swallowed back a reply and nodded before glancing down at his watch. "I should get going anyway," he said, avoiding her eyes.

His brain was finally catching up to his mouth, replaying his words back to him and making him feel very daft.

He'd been out of line, he knew that. What right did he have to make any sort of assumptions about a bloke he'd never met before? It wasn't fair to him, and it definitely wasn't fair to Abby.

_No matter how much of a bloody tosser he looks like._

Harry ignored this thought as he stood up.

Realising that they were, in fact, leaving, Abby got up as well. She walked around the table and knelt down in front of Al, giving him a kind smile. "I had so much fun talking with you today," she told him, her words filled with sincerity. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Al nodded politely. "Okay," he said with a smile.

Her hands rose up a fraction as if to hug him, but then she seemed to decide against it and stood back up, instead.

"Right, well," Harry said. "I guess I'll see you—"

But he cut off as Abby leant in towards his ear, catching him off guard.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she said softly.

"Er…" Harry said.

"Just for a second."

He licked his lips and nodded before turning to Al. "Hey," he said, digging into his pocket and taking out a few pounds. "How about something sweet for the road, eh? Go on and choose what you like."

Al didn't need telling twice. Harry watched him head over to the back counter, knowing it would take him several minutes to carefully inspect each item before picking one.

He then turned back to Abby. "What's up?"

"I've decided about Saturday."

It took a moment for the words to register in Harry's brain before realisation dawned on him. "Right, yeah, the wedding," he said with a shake of his head. "I meant to ask you about that. It's why I came."

_Bit rude,_ said a voice in his head that sounded like Hermione.

"And to see you," Harry added quickly. "Obviously."

Abby's mouth twitched a little, but she pressed on, taking in a deep breath. "I'm going to go," she said, her tone firm as if he might try to convince her otherwise. "Not for very long. I don't think I could bear it. But...I think it's best I go."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Okay," he said. "Well, what time shall I pick you up?"

Abby gazed at him, her face relaxing a bit. "You really don't have to, you know that?"

"Why would we go separately?"

"No, I mean..." Abby said, before shaking her head. "Never mind. I'm...I'm not sure yet. I'll call you with the details?"

Harry nodded once more.

"Thank you," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "It means the world, Harry."

They stared at each other for a moment, her eyes filled with warmth that he didn't feel he deserved.

"Anytime," he said quietly.

And then, knowing that he couldn't leave without saying anything, Harry cleared his throat. "Listen, about earlier..." he said.

Abby let go of his arm and looked at him in question.

"I need to apologise," he said, smoothing down his tie for lack of anything better to do with his hands. "You know, for being all weird about you and...what's-his-name."

"Bradley," she said.

"Right, him," Harry said, unconcerned.

Abby crossed her arms. "Yeah," she said, slowly. "That was a bit odd."

"It was," he said with a nod. "Definitely. And I'm sorry for that."

"Thank you."

"I just—well, I mean, the thing is…" Harry said, not really sure where he was going with this. "I just want the best for you."

_What the fuck?_

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Er," Abby said after a second, amusement clear in her voice. "That's...nice that you care, I suppose."

"I do," Harry said at once. " _Not_ —not like a father."

He wanted to make this very clear.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she nodded. "Like a friend?"

_No._

_What?_

"Yes," he said, his eyes shifting away. "Yeah, just like that."

And yet, the word had never sounded so flat to his ears.

_Friend_.

Ron and Hermione were his friends. They were his best friends. They were his family.

Abby was…

_What, exactly?_

He tried for a moment to find some sort of label for her, something she could  _be_. Maybe even something he'd want her to be.

Something different.

Something more.

He immediately stopped that train of thought, however. It wasn't going to happen, and there was no point considering it.

After all, he was…

Well, she wouldn't even…

They weren't...

"Anyway, it doesn't even matter," Abby said, jolting him from his thoughts.

Harry blinked. "What?" he said. For one wild moment he worried that she'd somehow heard what he'd been thinking.

"This conversation," she said, gesturing vaguely in the air. "Bradley...well, not to be rude or anything, but—he's a bit  _dull_."

Shifting his weight on is feet, Harry crossed his arms. "Dull," he repeated, keeping his voice neutral despite the sudden lightness in his chest.

"Just a bit," Abby said with a small wince, holding up her thumb and forefinger.

"Mmm," Harry said, staring down at his shoes for a second before looking back up at her. "Shame, that."

Abby gave him a tiny smile but didn't say anything more as Al finally reappeared at their side. He had three sticky buns in hand and offered one to Abby who accepted it with surprise, before giving one to Harry.

"Are we leaving, Dad?" Al said, taking a bite of his own.

"Yeah," Harry said. He placed an arm around the boy's shoulders, and then looked back at Abby. "I'll see you Saturday, then?"

She nodded. "See you," she said, giving them both a smile. "Thanks again for coming, Al. It made my whole day."

"You're welcome," he said simply.

Harry grinned and gave Abby one final nod before leading Al out of the shop, her words still echoing in his ears as they apparated back to the Ministry.

_Dull…_

Bradley was  _dull._

Harry was a lot of things, but he was pretty sure nobody had ever called him  _dull_.

* * *

"Right, how do I look?"

Harry turned around to face Ron and Hermione, spreading his arms out for inspection.

"Very handsome," Hermione said with a smile.

She walked up to him and brushed some invisible lint off his shoulders before glancing at Ron who was stretched out on their bed, eating a bag of crisps.

"Mmm, ravishing," Ron said in agreement, giving him a thumbs up. "If I weren't married, mate…"

Hermione turned back to Harry, looking pleased. "See?" she said as though that settled it.

It was a sign of just how distracted she was that she didn't even reprimand Ron for eating in their bedroom.

Harry had come over unannounced that morning in a bit of a frenzy after realising that the suit he'd worn at Dudley's wedding no longer fit him. It wouldn't have been such a problem if it weren't for the fact that he was supposed be picking up Abby in about two hours.

Hermione had given him a right earful for that.

"I don't know..." Harry said, glancing back at the mirror and adjusting his suit jacket. "I still think it's a bit...slim-fitting."

Hermione waved his concern away. "You're just used to wearing clothes that are two sizes too big on you," she said matter-of-factly. "And anyway, it's the style for suits to be a bit more fitted these days."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her but didn't say anything more.

"Now," she said with a clap of her hands. "Let's do something about that hair."

" _Hermione_ ," he said at once, leaning away from her. "You know there's no poi—"

"I'm only going to use a bit of Sleekeazy's on the back," she said as though speaking to a child. "Nothing too drastic. I'm sure Abby likes your hair the way it is."

Harry scowled. "That's not even—I'm not..." he said, struggling to get his point across as Hermione attacked his head from behind. "I just want to make her look good. You know...by association."

Hermione and Ron shared a look.

"Oh, shut up, the both of you," Harry said, annoyed.

"We didn't say anything!" Ron said.

"My arse, you didn't."

"There," Hermione said, ignoring them both and stepping back to observe her work. "Now we just need some cologne."

"You've got to be kidding me," Harry said.

Hermione summoned all of Ron's cologne bottles at once, taking a whiff of each one and either shaking her head or scrunching up her face in consideration.

"Oi! Careful with that one," Ron said suddenly, halfway out of bed. "It's from the shop. Makes the wearer's pheromones about ten times stronger. Could attract all sorts."

Hermione turned to face him with a withering look. "Then what is it doing in our house?" she said.

"It was a gift from George," Ron said, holding his hands up in defense. "Just a stupid gag."

"Dangerous, more like!"

Harry tuned out the rest of the argument as he picked one of the bottles floating in the 'yes' pile and dabbed a bit on his neck. He then stood in front of the mirror and gave himself one last once-over before turning towards Ron and Hermione.

"As much as I'd love to stick around for this," he said, making them both pause and look at him. "I've got to go."

Hermione's face immediately relaxed into a smile, and she hurried over to give him a hug.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered in his ear.

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he simply patted her on the back. He'd made it clear to her that he was only going to the wedding with Abby as a friend, but he knew she had her own ideas about that.

"Right, well," Harry said, extricating himself from her arms. "Thanks for everything. Truly. But I don't want to be late, so..."

"No, definitely not!" Hermione said, stepping back and adjusting his tie for the one hundredth time that day.

Ron walked over and gently pulled her away from him. "See you later, mate," he said. "Tell Abby we say hi."

"Yes!" Hermione said as if suddenly remembering. "And give her a hug and kiss from me."

Harry nodded. "How about a snog, as well?" he said.

"Don't get her hopes up," Ron said, resting his chin on Hermione's shoulder as she rolled her eyes.

With a good-natured smile, Harry bid them both goodbye before making his way down the stairs and out into the back garden to apparate.

He appeared seconds later in the alley near Abby's flat and glanced down at his watch. It was still a bit early despite what he'd said, but he figured he'd need some time to help Abby calm down her nerves, anyway.

Once he was in the building and up the stairs, he ran a hand through his hair and smoothed down his jacket before knocking on the door.

It was Clara who answered.

_Brilliant._

Her face seemed to change colour as soon as she saw him.

"Can I come in?" Harry said when she just stood there.

With a small sneer, she lifted her hand up and made a show of inspecting her nails. "Abby," she yelled out, still not moving aside. "Your  _friend_ is here."

The way she said 'friend' left much to be desired.

Harry gave her a forced smile and waited in the corridor with his hands in his pockets. But after a few seconds with no reply, Clara gave a loud huff and walked away, leaving the door open behind her.

"She's in her room," she said with a biting voice. "Probably knock first."

Harry ignored her as he entered the flat and walked towards what he assumed was Abby's bedroom as it was the only closed door in the hallway.

As he stood in front of it, he hesitated for a moment before knocking, feeling a bit weird about going inside. Bedrooms were rather private, weren't they? Maybe she wouldn't want him seeing hers? Maybe she was still getting dressed and expected him to wait in the sitting room until she was ready?

Harry glanced to where Clara was lounging on the sofa watching telly and then back at the bedroom door.

He decided to take the risk and knock.

"Yeah?" came Abby's voice, sounding muffled.

"It's me, Harry."

There was no response.

Not right away, at least. He was starting to wonder if he should knock again or simply leave her be when she finally spoke once more.

"You can come in."

Feeling a bit tense, Harry opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed upon entering were the piles of clothes littering nearly every inch of the floor. The room was rather small, to be fair, but it seemed as if Abby's entire wardrobe was laid out before him.

Staying by the door, he moved his eyes towards the bed where a long lump was buried underneath the covers.

"Abby?" he said.

She made a small noise in response.

"Er...I got here a bit early, sorry," Harry said. "I can leave and come back, if—"

"No, don't."

Harry stood there, feeling a bit lost.

After a small stretch of silence, he made the decision to walk over to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge by her feet.

"Nothing to wear, is it?" he said lightly, glancing around the room. "I suppose I'd be upset, too."

Abby let out sudden groan, catching him off guard.

He turned his head toward her just as she emerged from beneath the covers, her hair falling into her eyes and her face a bit flushed.

"Oh, God," she muttered, getting up swiftly and gathering up her clothes to stuff in her wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" Harry said watching her.

"Cleaning!"

"Why?"

Abby straightened up, pushing her hair behind her ear and giving him a look. "You," she said in an accusatory tone. "You're here. Seeing my room for the first time. Like  _this_."

Harry wanted to remind her that he'd definitely knocked and been given permission to enter, but he doubted she cared very much at the moment.

"Not how I thought this would go…" she muttered to herself as she knelt down to pick up her shoes.

"You've thought about me in your bedroom before?" he said without thinking.

Abby paused in her frenzy and looked up at him, her already flushed cheeks growing redder.

"Er...sorry. That was a joke," he said with a shake of his head. "A bad one."

What was he, flirting with her now?

She gave him a weak smile and then resumed what she was doing.

Letting out a small puff of air, Harry pushed aside any thoughts about whatever the hell that was and took the time to observe Abby's room, instead.

He noticed right away that the walls were white and bare just like the rest of her flat, not a single picture frame, poster, or decorative piece in sight. And he couldn't help but think of the conversation they'd had the first time he'd come over.

" _Do you know what I hate more than anything?"_

"White walls," Harry answered to himself as his eyes scanned the rest of the room.

The grey curtains, the dark blue bedspread, the desk in the corner with nothing but a small lamp and a few books and papers strewn atop it. It was all such a stark contrast to Abby's vibrant personality that Harry wondered how she could stand to sleep in here at all.

"All finished!"

Her voice shook him from his thoughts.

Harry looked around the room and gave an approving nod. "Well done."

The chair by her desk which had previously been occupied by a large pile of clothes was now empty, and he made his way over to it so she could sit on her bed.

"What?" he said when he noticed her staring at him.

Her eyes darted up to meet his before moving away again.

"That's a nice suit," she said.

"Oh," he said, looking down at it. "Thank you."

When she continued staring, however, he started feeling a bit self-conscious.

"All right, piss off," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I look like a twat, don't I?"

"You don't," Abby said at once with a small laugh. "You look good. Too good, in fact. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"I didn't realise it was a competition," Harry said with one eyebrow raised. "Besides, you're not even dressed yet. Of course, I look better than you."

At that, Abby let out a loud groan and fell back against her bed.

"I don't want to get dressed,"she mumbled, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it onto her face.

"That's always an option," Harry pointed out. "May cause a bit of a stir, but that could be what you're aiming for."

Abby sighed heavily before sitting back up and facing him again. "Harry," she said in a much smaller voice.

He leaned forward a bit in his seat.

"I...I don't know if I can do this," she said, hugging the pillow tight to her chest. "Every time I think about seeing my dad...my stomach gets all weird, and I start to feel sick and my hands get all sweaty...And everything I want to say just keeps playing in my head over and over again, even though I _know_ I won't have the nerve to say one word of it."

She paused and let out a long breath, looking tired all of a sudden. "Have you ever dreaded seeing somebody so much?"

Harry wondered briefly if a psychopathic dark wizard after his own life counted, but then figured that wasn't a very relatable experience.

"I suppose, yeah," he said, thinking of the Dursleys, instead. "After I moved out of my Aunt and Uncle's house, I never wanted to see them again."

Abby gave him a sympathetic look. "And did you?" she said.

"Yes," he said, grateful that she didn't ask him to elaborate. "At a wedding, funnily enough. My cousin's."

She let out a small laugh despite herself, and he smiled back at her.

"And you survived?" she said, staring at him as if his answer meant everything.

"Just barely."

Abby licked her lips and nodded.

"I had somebody with me who made it much more bearable," Harry said, the familiar tug of nostalgia making him pause for a second. "I can't promise I'll be able to do the same for you, but...it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

She gazed at him for a moment, her eyes bright. "You already make so many things more bearable for me, Harry."

The words took him by surprise, making him feel strangely moved. He wasn't sure why or how they could be true, but he didn't doubt her sincerity.

And that was when he realised something.

Something important.

She made things more bearable for  _him_ , too.

How many conversations had he had with her? How many intimate details had he willingly shared? Things he simply couldn't tell anyone else or perhaps just didn't want to. Conversations about Albus and his magic. James and his flying. Even Lily's insecurities of being a girl. Everything Harry had been dealing with, piled one on top of the other, for so long _on his own._

He exhaled.

_On his own._

A rush of emotion overcame him then, and he had to look away from her. It was an emotion he recognized but couldn't quite describe in a word.

It felt like Molly...hugging him after the final task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Or Ron and Hermione...sacrificing their family and freedom and lives to go searching for Horcruxes with him.

Or Ginny…

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

_It felt like Ginny._

_..._

"Hey."

His eyes snapped open.

Abby was kneeling against the arm of the chair, looking up at him with concern. "Are you all right?" she said, placing a hand on his forearm.

It was warm. He had the urge to take it in his.

"Yeah, why?" he said, his voice coming out scratchy.

She tilted her head a bit, a frown on her face. "You just looked a bit...stressed," she said.

Harry licked his lips, feeling a light sheen of sweat above them. "I'm fine," he said, placing his hand on hers. "Better than I have been in a while, actually."

This seemed to surprise her, but she didn't say anything.

"But it doesn't matter," Harry said with a shake of his head. "This isn't about me, it's about you."

Abby groaned as though not wanting to be reminded.

"You were set on going to this wedding a few days ago, so it's now my job to make sure you stick to your word."

"What if I've changed my mind?" she said eyebrows raised.

"Unfortunately for you, I trust Thursday Abby much more than I trust Saturday Abby."

"Why?" she said, looking insulted.

"Because  _her_  judgement wasn't clouded by emotion."

"Neither is mine."

Harry stared at her with a doubtful look until she let out a soft sigh and stood back up.

She turned to face the open window, folding her arms tight across her chest as she looked down at the street below. "I really hate this," she said quietly.

Harry nodded even though he wasn't in her line of sight. "I know," he said.

"And Ryan's probably not going to be there," she said.

"Maybe not."

She pressed her forehead against the glass and shut her eyes. "But he might be," she muttered.

Harry didn't respond as she shifted her head towards him, the sunlight reflecting off her eyes.

"You'd go?" she said, her voice coming out a bit weak. "If it were you?"

"If there was somebody that I loved that I hadn't seen in years?" Harry said, choosing his words carefully as she stared at him. "I'd do anything."

She blinked rapidly and nodded.

Then, as though coming to a decision, she straightened back up and walked towards her wardrobe. "Can you wait outside for a bit while I get changed?" she said over her shoulder.

"Of course," he said, standing up.

He made his way to the door but felt a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Thank you," Abby said, giving him a meaningful look. "I didn't get a chance to say that, yet."

Harry nodded. And even though he knew she was about to hug him, he pulled her in first, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

She instantly relaxed in his arms. "You smell amazing," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He laughed. "You can thank Hermione for that."

Abby leaned back with a smile. "I'll make sure to next time I see her," she said, brushing a hand delicately across one of his lapels. "Picked your outfit out, too, did she?"

"Something like that, yeah," Harry said.

She stared into his eyes for a moment before clearing her throat and stepping away from him. "Well off you go, then," she said, walking towards her wardrobe.

Harry didn't need telling twice. He made his way out the corridor and into the sitting room, pausing when he saw Clara still lying about on the sofa.

For some reason, he thought she'd have left by now. She wasn't usually home when he was over, and he very much wanted to continue that arrangement.

He had half a mind to wait in the corridor until Abby was finished, but it was too late. Clara had noticed him.

"I don't bite," she said in a bored voice. "Unless you want me to."

He ignored her and took a seat on the small armchair next to the couch.

Neither of them spoke for the next several minutes.

Harry, for his part, was pretending to be very interested in the current programme on television despite having no idea what was going on. It was some sort of sitcom with too many characters that he couldn't be bothered to follow. But it provided a welcome distraction to the current awkward atmosphere.

"I was a bit drunk, you know."

Harry kept his eyes fixed on the television screen.

"I'd never be that pathetic to come onto a bloke who's not interested."

"Good to know," he said.

Silence again.

He hoped that was the end of it.

"You fancy her, then?"

Harry sighed.

"Look," he said, facing her. "I think it's pretty clear that I don't like you. You don't have to like me, either. So why don't we do ourselves a favor and stay out of each other's business."

Clara scoffed loudly. "Fine," she said, turning her head away from him. "Dunno what she even sees in you. You seem like an arse."

Harry nodded. "Only when I need to be."

The sound of the bedroom door opening thankfully prevented Clara from responding. They both looked up as Abby entered the sitting room.

"Okay, I'm done," she said, walking towards them.

"Hmm, not bad," Clara said, sounding impressed. "Told you the blue dress looked better. Brings out your eyes more."

"You think?" Abby said, smoothing down the material.

Clara nodded. "No hat, though? You could borrow mine."

"Nah, it'll make it seem like I care too much," she said shaking her head. "I mean I want to look good, but not like I spent too much  _effort_ looking good—"

"You look beautiful."

The words slipped out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them.

Abby glanced up at him.

"Er...effortlessly beautiful," he said.

"Oh," she said, her face a bit pink.

"I mean you always do," Harry said quickly, walking towards her. "Just, you know…"

"More than usual?" she said.

He was relieved to hear amusement in her voice. "Your words, not mine."

Abby laughed. "Well," she said. "I guess I could say the same for you."

"That I look more beautiful than usual?"

"So much more."

"It's the hair, isn't it," Harry said. "It's combed."

"It's actually the shoes," she said. "I fancy a man with a bit of shine to his shoe."

"Oh, Christ," Clara said, lip curled as she stared between them. "It all makes sense now..."

Harry had almost forgotten she was there, and he was only too happy to watch her get up and leave the room.

"Don't mind her," Abby said, staring at her retreating back. "She—"

"I don't care," Harry said with a shake of his head.

Abby nodded, and then they just stood there in silence for a moment, both staring at each other.

Or maybe it was only him doing the staring.

He couldn't really help it, she was just so...

_Beautiful?_

_Yeah...that._

Abby had never been hard on the eyes, to be fair. There was always something rather pleasing and soft about her features. Dare he say,  _delicate_. But he'd just grown so used to seeing her with her hair up and her skin a bit pale and her figure engulfed by large jumpers to pay too much attention.

Of course, there was also the fact that he spent the first couple of months that he'd known her actively trying to ignore her.

It was mad to think about now. How much time had changed things between them.

He would have never expected in a million years to be standing here, fully volunteering to spend an entire Saturday with her.

At a wedding, no less.

And yet, here he was, momentarily frozen by something as simple as her hair falling in waves around her face. Or her eyes, bluer than he'd ever seen them. Her lips, a pleasing pinkish sort of colour.

He forced himself not to look down any further.

Her dress was, by all accounts, rather modest. But he didn't think she'd appreciate him staring at her legs.

No...he definitely would have never expected any of this.

"Blimey," Abby said, breaking into his thoughts. "You're not very subtle, are you?"

Harry met her eyes, feeling the back of his neck heat up. "That's never been my strong suit, no."

Her eyebrows rose just a fraction.

"Sorry," he said then, shaking his head. "I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You're not."

"I don't go around ogling women, I promise."

"I know."

"Can we just start all of this over?"

"We can."

Harry paused, and they looked at each other for a moment before both breaking out into smiles.

"If I knew all it took was some makeup and a nice dress to get you all flustered, I would have done it ages ago," Abby said.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said as she giggled softly. "You were the one smelling me earlier."

"Fair point."

He shook his head in amusement. "So, er…" he said, shoving his hands in pockets. "Shall we get on with it, then?"

Abby instantly seemed to sober up, and she nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I suppose we have to."

That was all the confirmation Harry needed before taking out his phone to call a cab. And despite Abby's protests that the tube would be fine and that she didn't want to make more out of this than it already was, they found themselves in the backseat of a taxi fifteen minutes later.

"Why couldn't you just teleport us there?" she said quietly.

" _Apparate_ ," Harry muttered in exasperation. "You do that to annoy me, don't you?"

Abby gave him a sly smile and shrugged.

"It's because I've never been there," Harry explained. "I'd need a mental picture of it first."

She let out a thoughtful 'hmm' before staring back out the window.

As the minutes passed on by, Harry found himself surprisingly grateful for the long car ride. It gave him some much needed time to think about things. And after the day he'd been having so far—or the entire week, really—he definitely had a lot to think about.

He couldn't deny anymore that his relationship with Abby was changing, evolving into something deeper and more intimate. It started all the way back from their trip to Hogwarts together. He'd felt something that day. An intense connection that rattled him to the core.

And then, of course, there was his reaction to the bloke in the cafe giving her his number. If it were anybody else, Harry would say they were jealous. But jealousy would mean he wanted her for himself, and...he didn't. Not  _that_ way.

But then today…

How could he possibly describe today.

For the first time in all the time he'd known Abby, he'd felt attracted to her. Physically attracted to her.  _Very_ physically attracted to her.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been attracted to a woman since Ginny. Sure, there'd been plenty of women he'd  _found_ attractive, but hardly any that he'd  _been_ attracted to.

God, the word was starting to make his head hurt.

Harry rubbed his face and let out a small sigh. He was probably making a bigger deal out of this than it actually was. She was the first new woman in his life that he'd grown close to since Ginny. Maybe his body was just getting a bit too eager about that.

Yeah...that had to be it. It made much more sense than him suddenly developing feelings for Abby.

_Abby._

She was lovely. Beautiful. Funny. Kind. A proper friend.

But she was  _Abby_.

Whatever this was, it was purely physical. It had to be.

With that thought in mind, Harry leant his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, feeling much more content about the whole situation.

He knew all he'd needed was some time to think.

* * *

"Maybe I can just pop in and out without anyone noticing me?"

Harry glanced out the window.

A small crowd of wedding guests was forming in the back garden of the manor where the ceremony was to take place, but Harry and Abby had yet to join them.

"Well, you can definitely try," he said, giving an awkward smile to a pair of old ladies who'd just made eye contact with him through the glass. "Your dad seems preoccupied, anyway."

"Thank God."

Harry could only see the man's profile from here. He was standing in front of a small wooden pavilion at the end of the aisle, currently in conversation with one of the ushers, looking for all the world like any other bloke about to get married.

The man had been nothing but a blurry image in Harry's mind until now. It was odd seeing him in person—wispy, brown hair the same colour as Abby's, height and weight about average, looking to be in his early- to mid-fifties. He seemed relatively normal. Nothing at all like the arse Harry expected him to be.

Then again, what exactly did an arse look like?

"Hide me!" Abby said suddenly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

She moved behind him to shield herself as a pair of guests emerged from the entrance hall, walking past them and through the large oak double doors that led out into the garden.

"How are you ever going to find your brother if you keep doing that?" Harry said, trying to push her back in front of him.

"You can be my eyes," she said.

"I don't know what he looks like."

"He's a bloke and he's young," she said. "There's not too many people with that description hanging around here."

Harry didn't bother arguing that point. "Well, what exactly is our plan, anyway?" he said instead, turning away from the window to look at her. "Just wait? Surely there's someone here who might—"

He stopped short as Abby ducked behind his back once more. This time, however, for good reason.

"Abigail!"

He looked up to see a couple walking towards them, the woman holding an arm up and waving at Abby before turning to say something to the man at her side, her large white hat hitting him in the face.

Abby swore underneath her breath as they approached.

"Come here then, let's have a look at you!" the woman said, taking Abby's face a bit forcefully in her hands and lifting it as though to inspect her. "My you've grown, haven't you? I barely recognized you from afar."

Harry coughed.

"And yet here you are," Abby said with a plastered on smile as the woman finally released her. "It's...great to see you both."

"Oh you as well, love," the woman said before turning to Harry and staring at him above her glasses.

Abby glanced between them. "Er...this is Harry," she said, gesturing towards him. "Harry, this is my Great Aunt Faye and Uncle Paul."

"Pleasure," he said, shaking hands with them.

He could guess the next question before it even left the woman's mouth.

"Here together, are you?" she said, staring blatantly at their ring fingers. "Dating?"

"No," Abby said at once. "Harry came with me as a friend."

Paul made eye contact with him for a second before glancing away again. He seemed to be a man of few words, but Harry found himself wondering what was going on through his head at the moment.

"Ah. How nice," Aunt Faye said, an overly sweet smile on her face. "Well then, will you both be joining us outside? The ceremony should be starting soon."

"We'll just be a moment," Abby said with an even brighter smile.

Harry's eyes followed them as they walked out into the garden and took their seats near the front. "What's the deal there?" he said, nodding towards them. "You'd need an axe to cut through all that tension."

Abby made a gagging gesture as she sidled up next to him, looking out the window herself for the first time since they'd arrived. "I haven't seen them since my mum died," she said, taking in the scene before her. "My aunt's all talk, always has been. Used to help out a bit when my mum was really sick, but not when we needed her most. And after the funeral, she never showed her face again."

Harry stared at the woman's back, feeling a sudden rush of dislike towards her. "Sounds like a right piece of work," he said.

"You've no idea," Abby said.

He looked at the other guests for a moment then as well. There could have been thirty, maybe forty people there. He found himself wondering how many of them were Abby's family—aunts, uncles, cousins perhaps. People she'd never spoken of, people that she'd been actively trying to avoid.

It was a situation he was all too familiar with.

With a sudden wave of empathy, Harry took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Do you want me to hex them?" he said, his voice light despite the seriousness of the question. "Every single one, I'm not picky."

Abby looked up at him in amusement. "You mean like...turning them into frogs or something?"

Harry smiled. "Nothing quite that dramatic," he said. "I was thinking more...giving them a constant itch or...making them sweat. Profusely."

Her eyes lit up at the very thought. "But won't you get in trouble?" she said, leaning in closer.

Touching his wand lightly in his pocket, he shrugged. "It's a minor spell, it'll go right under the radar," he said. "Besides what are they going to do? I'm Harry Potter."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, but Abby only let out a delighted laugh in response.

"Oh, forgive me," she said with an impish look on her face. "I didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"I don't usually like to brag about it," he said with a shrug. "But yes, I am very famous."

Abby only laughed harder, bless her.

He brushed aside any thoughts for now about whether or not she'd be laughing at that in future.

"Anyway, if I'm going to do this, we'll have to come out of hiding, you know that," Harry said, levelling her with a look as he took out his wand. "We don't want to be the last ones seated anyway. It'll draw attention."

She frowned at him as though he were being unreasonable.

"Come on," he said gently, holding out his hand for her to take. "We'll sit all the way in the back where no one can bother us."

Abby stared at his wand for a moment as though deep in thought and then looked back up at him. "No," she said simply, shaking her head. "No magic. They're not worth it. I'm not risking you getting in trouble, no matter how unlikely it is."

Harry's shoulders dropped a bit. He had to admit, he'd been looking forward to helping her get some revenge. It was none of his business, of course, but he thought Abby could use a bit of a laugh at the moment. "Your choice," he said, tucking his wand back in his pocket. "But if you change your mind…"

"You'll be the first to know," she said with a small smile.

Then with a heavy sigh, she turned away from the window and placed her hand in his. "Let's get this over with."

Harry nodded and led them towards the door.

"Bride or groom?" said the usher as they stepped out into the garden.

"Bride," Abby said.

Harry didn't comment as they went to sit down, choosing seats in the very back row and as far away from the aisle as possible.

From this distance, he could see Abby's dad more clearly than before. And it pleased him to note that aside from their hair colour, they had nothing else in common. It was much easier to dislike him that way.

Standing at his side were three other men including the usher that had been speaking with him earlier. Harry didn't know how second weddings usually went, but as he stared at the assembled wedding party, he couldn't help but think of Abby's brother. In a perfect world, he might have been up there as well, right next to his dad.

It was strange how heavy the thought weighed on him. Harry simply couldn't imagine getting married again and not having James, Al, and Lily at the wedding. It hurt to even consider it. And as he stared once more at Abby's father, he suddenly felt true pity for him.

Did he have any idea what he was missing?

Harry looked at Abby who was staring determinedly at the order of service in her hands, her hair falling like a curtain around face.

_No...he couldn't possibly._

"So," Harry said, leaning his head towards her. "On a scale of 1-10, how badly do you want to punch him in the face right now?"

Abby's lips twitched as she turned over the program. "Ten being...?"

"Really,  _really_ badly."

She nodded as she pretended to read. "Ten, it is."

Harry winked at her and leant back in his chair.

It didn't take long after that for the wedding procession to start. Harry hadn't even realised there'd been music playing until it suddenly increased in volume. And as he looked around for the source, he only spotted a piano inside the pavilion with no one sat behind it.

"Where's the music coming from?" Harry whispered to Abby, trying to get her mind off things.

She raised an eyebrow at him and pointed to a pair of black boxes resting upon stands on either side of the garden.

"Oh," he said, feeling stupid. "Speakers, right?"

Abby nodded with a small smile.

"Why not just play the piano if it's already there?" he said.

"Bad acoustics," she said. "You wouldn't be able to hear it well enough."

Harry gave a thoughtful 'hmm' before resting back against his seat. Everyone had their heads turned now, and he looked over as well to see the bride emerging from the archway.

He hadn't even considered the woman until this very moment. But as he watched her walk down the aisle, he found himself growing curious about her.

She looked a bit younger than Abby's dad but not by much. Possibly in her forties. Her black hair fell in numerous tight twists around her dark shoulders, and she a had a heart-shaped face accented by high cheekbones. She was a rather attractive woman, and Abby's dad seemed to light up as soon as he saw her, a smile appearing on his face for perhaps the first time that day.

The thought made Harry glance sideways at Abby. She had finally unglued her eyes from the program and lifted her head up, an unreadable expression on her face. Harry watched as her eyes followed the woman until she reached the end of the aisle before settling her gaze on her father.

Her forehead wrinkled into a slight frown, and her lips pressed together tight. It was the first time she'd looked at him since they'd got there. Maybe the first time she'd looked at him in years.

"You okay?" Harry said.

Abby nodded and took his hand, interlacing their fingers together as the vicar began speaking.

Harry tuned him out for the most part, paying little attention to anything but the pressure of Abby's hand in his. At one point, she'd squeezed so hard, his knuckles began to hurt. But he didn't dare let go.

Not while the vows were being said.

Not while the rings were being exchanged.

Not while the kisses were being had.

Each step causing Abby to squeeze tighter and tighter and tighter. Until finally...it was over.

Harry got his hand back as applause rang out in the small garden, neither of them contributing to it. The bride and groom were walking back down the aisle, eyes only for each other while the guests were all on their feet. And for a moment, he really thought Abby might be in the clear.

In hindsight, he should have realised that being the only two people  _not_  clapping wasn't the smartest way to remain inconspicuous.

Sure enough, at the very last moment when Abby's dad inexplicably turned his head towards their row, his eyes seemed to land directly on them.

His smile faltered at once, and he slowed a bit in his tracks, nearly coming to a complete stop as he stared at Abby.

Harry couldn't describe the look on his face if he tried.

He didn't have time to.

Because a second later, Abby turned around and left.

* * *

He found her sat against a tree near a small artificial pond, knees to her chest and arms wrapped tight around her legs.

"I kind of just want to be alone right now," she said as he walked up behind her, her voice sounding a bit congested. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Don't be," he said at once. "I'll just erm…"

He cast around for something to say before realising she really didn't care, and then made his way a little further down the pond to give her some privacy.

Minutes passed on by without either of them speaking. Harry wondered if he should approach her again, maybe ask her if she wanted to talk. That was the obvious thing to do, wasn't it? He couldn't just leave her there to wallow. And if it turned out she wanted him to piss off, then at the very least, he could suggest taking her home.

Yes.

Yes, that was a good plan.

Before he could do any of that, however, a voice broke the silence.

Harry jerked his head up.

It was him. Abby's dad.

Without thinking twice, Harry made his way over to them, his hand drifting toward his pocket.

"What are you doing here?" he heard Abby say, her voice colder than Harry thought possible.

Her dad opened his mouth to speak, but then shifted his eyes toward Harry as he came to a stop beside her. "Who are you?"

"None of your business," Abby answered for him.

Harry gave him a hard stare but remained silent.

"We're not doing this right now, okay? The last thing I want is to make a scene at your wedding," Abby said as though continuing a conversation they'd just been having. "Just go back to your guests and leave me alone. I didn't come all the way down here for you."

"Ryan's not here."

"I realise that!" she said throwing her hands up in the air.

"And yet you stayed."

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"Why did you stay?" her dad said, taking a step closer to her.

Harry glanced at Abby out of the corner of his eye. He'd been wondering the same thing, but he hadn't dared ask her.

With a scowl, she turned her head back towards him. "Maybe I was just morbidly curious," she said shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe I wanted to know what type of woman would ever agree to this. To marrying  _you_."

The words made Harry wince a bit, but he quickly relaxed his features as the man stared between him and Abby, an irritable look crossing his face.

"I don't think this is a conversation we should be having in front of your friend," he said, giving Harry a silent message with his eyes to get lost.

But Abby only took a step closer to him. "He's not going anywhere."

Whether this was said out of an actual desire for Harry to be there or merely as an act of defiance, he wasn't quite sure. Either way, he supposed he was staying put.

"Well, then," her dad said, giving them both a tight smile. "Can you at least introduce us?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "This is Harry. A really good friend of mine. He's one of the kindest, most loyal, most humble, hard-working and all around  _decent_ blokes that I've ever met," she said, her voice getting more and more pointed as she went on. "Harry...this is Robert."

_Oh, boy._

Robert stared at him, a clear look of displeasure on his face.

"I'm her father," he said.

"I know," Harry said.

They held each other's gazes for a moment, Harry trying to keep his own expression neutral.

"I suppose she's told you everything then?" Robert said, gesturing towards Abby. "Painted me out the be the bad guy?"

Abby raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there any other way to paint you?"

"It's a lot more complex, you know," he said, addressing Harry directly as if his opinion mattered at all. "Whatever she's told you, it's complex. That period of my life...I was going through a rough time."

Harry's lips parted. "I really don't—"

"You  _were_? Blimey, I had no idea," Abby said, cutting him off, eyes wide with mock concern. "Why didn't you tell us? We could have helped, Ryan and I."

This seemed to touch a nerve.

The man swore under his breath in frustration and turned away from them. He started pacing back and forth as though needing to release some energy, one hand resting on his hip while the other rubbed furiously at his face.

Abby watched him for a moment, her mouth forming into a small frown.

And then her shoulders seemed to deflate.

"Just go," she said, her voice sounding tired all of a sudden. "Harry and I are leaving now anyway."

He paused in his step and turned to them. "Wait," he said, holding up a hand to stop her. "Just—don't you want to know about your brother?"

Abby furrowed her eyebrows. "Why, what can you tell me?"

"I have his number," he said. "Dunno if he's changed it since. He hasn't answered any of my calls."

"You mean the calls about your wedding?" she said with a humourless laugh. "Funny, that. Not a very good icebreaker, is it?"

A look of regret passed over his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Abby…"

She shook her head. "Don't," she said.

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared down at the ground. He was finding it much more difficult than he thought it would be to stand here and listen to this conversation.

This man was a horrible excuse for a father. Harry knew that.

He'd neglected his own children. He'd abandoned them during one of the darkest moments of their lives. He'd forced them to grow up too soon. And he sure as hell deserved every biting, sarcastic, rude remark that Abby was throwing at him, if not more.

A  _hundred_ times more.

And yet…

Harry couldn't stop the inexplicable feeling of sympathy that rose within him.

As a father. As a man who knew what it was like to go through the worst type of pain imaginable and then still have to wake up the next day.

Alone.

It was all so fucked up in Harry's mind that he wished he'd never even met the guy. It would've been so much easier to go on hating him that way.

Harry lifted his head back up and looked between the two. Nobody had spoken for several seconds, and in the silence, he could hear the rumble of voices coming from inside the manor where dinner was currently taking place. He wondered what the guests thought of the missing groom.

"Go," Abby said, apparently thinking along the same lines. "You just got bloody married, you should be with your wife."

"Abby—"

" _Go,"_ she said, her voice firm. "We're done here. Just send me Ryan's number, and we can go on living our lives the way we have been."

"Stay for dinner," Robert said, suddenly. "Please. Naomi's been dying to meet you."

"Who the hell is—"

Abby cut off as realisation dawned on her. "She knows I exist, does she?" she said, crossing her arms. "My  _stepmother._ "

"Of course she does," he said a bit defensively. "I've told her all about you and Ryan."

"Did she enjoy that five minute conversation?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between them as though following a tennis match.

This was definitely a side of Abby he'd never seen before, but he was finding that he really didn't mind it one bit. It was quite...fiery.

God forbid  _they_ ever got into a real fight, though. She'd tear him to absolute shreds.

"I told her a lot of things," Robert said, edging a bit closer to her. "How you look just like your mother...how much you love your music, and how talented you are."

Abby snapped her head up at that, her eyes practically burning.

Harry could instantly feel something in the air change.

"Oh, you've got some nerve," she said, shaking her head.

Robert let out a heavy sigh. "Abby," he said, looking much older now. "I told you before, I never would've done it if I had the choice. I was in a rough spot. That piano was worth a lot of money—"

"It was worth more than money!" she said, her face growing flushed. "It was  _everything_  to me, and you knew that."

"Abigail,  _please_ ," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There were other priorities that I—"

"Don't you dare talk to me about priorities," she said, looking truly angry now. "Not when your only priority at the time was going down to the bloody pub every night!"

Harry felt his heart sink.

"Did you tell Naomi all about  _that_?" Abby said, her voice rising in volume. "Did you tell her how you used to take your anger out on your 10-year-old son? Or how you refused to speak to your own daughter, to even make eye-contact with her for months after her mother died?"

"You weren't so happy  _then_  that I looked just like her, were you?" Abby shouted, tears in her eyes now. " _Were_ _you?"_

"Abby," her dad said, moving to place a hand on her arm.

"Don't you bloody touch me!"

She tried to rip her arm away, but he'd taken hold of her elbow, using more strength than necessary and causing her to wince in pain.

"Oi!" Harry said, shooting towards them.

He grabbed the man's arm and twisted it away from her while his other hand gripped his wand firmly in his pocket.

"What the hell are you doing?" Robert said to him.

But Harry only tightened his hold. "You're lucky I'm not doing worse," he said through gritted teeth.

The man was only one wrong word away from being hexed into oblivion, and Harry wasn't feeling particularly gracious at the moment.

But just as his resolve was starting to crumble, a new voice cut through the air—calm and entreating.

"Let him go...please."

Harry whipped around to see Abby's stepmother standing there, observing the scene with troubled eyes.

"Naomi," Robert said, moving away as Harry relaxed his grip.

But she barely acknowledged him, her eyes settling on Abby instead.

The two women stared at each other for a moment, neither saying a word.

"He did tell me," Naomi said finally, a quiet intensity in her gaze. "He told me everything."

Abby's nostrils flared as she breathed heavily through her nose. It seemed the woman had been standing there for some time.

"But I'm still here," she continued, her eyes searching Abby's face. "I don't expect you to believe it, and I don't expect you to care. But I want you to know...the man I met and fell in love with is very different from the one you knew."

Abby let out a dry chuckle and looked away.

"Not  _completely,"_ Naomi said, unfazed. "But still very different."

"That's lovely for you both," Abby practically spit out. "I hope you have a very happy life together."

Naomi stared at her, her mouth drawn into a frown.

"You have every right to be angry," she said with a nod. "And if you never wanted to see him again, I wouldn't fault you for that."

Harry felt Robert tense up beside him.

"But I hope…" she said before trailing off.

She closed her eyes for a second and then looked back at Abby.

"I hope one day you can get to know him again...as I do."

Abby knitted her eyebrows but didn't respond.

Harry didn't blame her. He tried to imagine what it would be like for someone to tell him that Uncle Vernon was a changed man that was dying to reconnect with him.

If the situation weren't so serious, he might have laughed out loud.

"But for now," Naomi said suddenly, turning to face Harry as well. She gave him a kind smile which took him a bit off guard considering he'd just had her husband in an armlock. "The two of you are more than welcome to join us for dinner and the reception. And if you choose not to, then we definitely understand, don't we, Robert?"

The man cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet. "Of course," he said, his voice gruff.

Naomi nodded, placing a hand on his arm. She was about to speak again, but then he suddenly cut her off.

"Abby," Robert said, taking a step towards her. "Listen, can we just—can I talk to you for a second?  _Alone._ "

Abby raised an eyebrow at him.

"Please," he said, almost desperate. "I still need to give you Ryan's number, don't I?"

She pursed her lips and seemed to think about it for a moment before letting out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, whatever," she said. "But make it quick."

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he nodded, leading her towards the other end of the pond where they were well out of ear-shot.

As Harry watched them go, he had the strange urge to follow after them. But then he felt a hand on his arm, and he looked over to see Naomi staring at him.

"They'll be fine," she said with a nod.

He gave her an awkward smile and then turned away again.

It wasn't as if he was  _actually_  going to do it.

"She's lucky to have you," Naomi said.

Harry creased his forehead. "Er...sure, I suppose," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"How long have you been together?"

"What?" he said, turning to look at her.

"You and Abby," she said, nodding towards her. "How long have you been dating?"

Harry felt his heart speed up. "Oh. Er...no," he said, shaking his head. "We're not—I mean...I'm just…"

Naomi looked genuinely confused. "Oh," she said with a small frown. "Sorry."

He gave her a quick smile and waved it off.

"Well, you're a great friend, anyway."

Harry cleared his throat and glanced down at the ground.

There it was again.

_Friend._

The word was sounding more and more insignificant by the day.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

And that was the end of that conversation.

A few more minutes of silence passed between them before Harry heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Abby and her dad walking back.

He couldn't really tell by their expressions how things went, but he doubted Abby would be sending him Father's Day cards anytime soon.

"Right, well," Abby said, turning to address Naomi. "Goodbye. It was nice meeting you."

"You as well," Naomi said, giving her a soft smile. She shifted her head towards Robert and sent him a meaningful look.

Clenching his jaw tight, the man moved forward and stuck his hand out to Harry who met his eyes for a moment before accepting it.

It was one of the more painful handshakes of Harry's life.

"Goodbye, Abby," Robert said, turning to face her, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. "I hope...I hope you get in touch with your brother soon."

Abby stared at him, giving the barest nod before looking away.

And then they were gone—bride and groom walking back across the lawn to rejoin their party.

"Well...I suppose that could've gone worse," Harry said once they were alone again. "Nobody killed each other, anyway."

He turned around to look at Abby only to find her pacing back and forth in a fury.

Harry's eyes widened a bit. "Are you all right?" he said, walking towards her. "He didn't say anything else to upset you, did he?"

It was a stupid question.

Of course he must have. His entire presence seemed to upset her.

Abby let out a loud groan of frustration in response.

"It's just—" she said, pausing in her step to look at him. "I mean, it's  _really_ not—I don't even know how to—"

He waited.

"I hate him," she said finally, throwing her hands up. "I really,  _really_ do."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"I mean does she honestly expect me to believe that he could just  _change_ ," Abby said with an incredulous laugh. "That he can just stop being a complete and utter arse?"

Harry shrugged.

"Because he can't!"

Harry shook his head.

With another groan, Abby leant back against the tree behind her and looked up at him. "What do you think?" she said in a defeated tone.

He'd been hoping she wouldn't ask him that. He hadn't even been able to put it into words himself, and now he was meant to explain it to her.

Harry licked his lips and stared down at his shoes. "I don't know," he said. "It's…"

He broke off with a shake of his head.

He wanted to be honest with her, but he wasn't sure she'd like all of what he had to say.

It was complicated, to say the least.

"You  _should_ hate him. Definitely," Harry said, nodding. "What he put you through—the both of you—was unacceptable. And I wouldn't blame you for never speaking to him again."

She didn't respond, but he could feel her gaze on him.

"But Abby," he said still staring down at the ground. "The thing about...about losing the love of your life…"

He paused, trying to find the right words.

"It's different," he said, swallowing hard. "Not worse...just different."

Her lips parted as their eyes met.

"It tears your whole world apart...destroys your entire concept of—of who you are," Harry said, shaking his head and willing her to understand. "You're like one person, the both of you. But then you get ripped in half, and all that's left is someone you don't even recognise anymore."

"And you're just supposed to carry on," he added quietly, his voice rough. "Being incomplete."

Abby let out a shaky breath as she stared at him.

"And I don't know who I would've been—what I would've done—if I didn't have people around me," Harry said, knitting his forehead in thought. "I was  _lucky._ To have friends, family, who refused to let me slip away."

"Maybe…" he said with some hesitation. "Maybe your dad wasn't so lucky."

Abby stood up a bit straighter at that and then moved towards him. "No," she said simply, shaking her head. "No, that's where you're wrong,"

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"No matter who was in your life at the time, no matter what your situation was—you would  _never_ do what he did," Abby said, punctuating each word. "You love your children more than anything in this world. You wouldn't just leave them."

"They were practically babies, of course I couldn't—"

"I don't care how old they were!" she said, her face flushed with emotion. "You'd never abandon them because you're  _not_ that type of man, Harry. _You're just not!"_

She squeezed her shut and spun away from him, covering her face with her hands.

And Harry just stood there for a moment, frozen.

Then, as if his body had a mind of its own, he walked around and gently removed her hands from her face before pulling her into a hug.

He couldn't believe there'd ever been a time when he would only grudgingly accept her embrace. These days it seemed like he was just waiting for the next one.

He only hoped she found as much comfort in his arms as he did in hers.

"Harry," Abby said, pulling him from his thoughts.

She shifted a bit and leaned back.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes softened as she stared up at him. "I know what I need," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, and he immediately glanced down at her lips.

But then she stepped away from him, beckoning towards something in the distance.

Feeling thoroughly confused—and just a bit disappointed—Harry followed after her. She led them back towards the main garden where all the chairs and decorations from the ceremony were still in place, and to the small wooden pavilion which was now lit with lanterns as the sun was beginning to set.

Harry took in the sight before him and then turned to her with a warm smile. "Finally," he said.

Abby smiled right back as she sat down on the bench in front of the piano.

"It's the one thing that calms me down most in the world," she said, dragging the backs of her fingers lightly across the keys. "Whenever I'm really,  _really_ upset, I like to play this particular piece—one of the first ones my mum ever taught me."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and leant back against the lattice behind him, his lips quirking up at the corner as he took in the scene. He decided he liked the look of her, sitting there by the piano.

"What's it called?" he said for lack of anything better to say.

She raised an eyebrow at him. " _Gymnopédie No. 1_ ," she said with an exaggerated French accent. "I'd say you've probably heard it before in some movie or another, but...you  _are_ you, so…"

Harry grinned at that. "Virgin ears, then."

Abby shook her head in amusement before staring back the keys.

And then she closed her eyes and breathed out a slow breath. And somehow Harry knew that she'd entered a different world entirely.

And then she started playing.

From the very first note, Harry felt something stir within him. The music was soft...slow...achingly sweet...building towards something only to come back down again but never fully resolving itself. And he felt it somehow within him—vibrating in his bones, rushing through his chest, and drawing his very breath right out. It made him yearn for something he couldn't even name. Miss something he couldn't even remember.

And as he stared at Abby, her eyes still closed and her face drawn into a small frown, he was overcome by the sheer presence of her.

Strong.

Gentle.

Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.

And there was no doubt left in his mind anymore. No room left for denial.

Harry knew what he felt.

And he felt it fully.


End file.
